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THE 



HUMAN INTELLECT 




AN INTEODTJCTION UPON 




PSYCHOLOGY AND THE SOUL. 



NOAH PORTER, D. D., 

CLARK PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY AND METAPHYSICS IN YALE COLLEGE. 



FOURTH EDITION. 



NEW YORK : 
CHARLES SCRIBNER & COMPANY. 

1870. 










In the Clerk' 



Ehteeed according to Act of Congress, in the year lbG3, hy 

CHAELES SCEIBNEE & CO., 
Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District it 
New York. 



THE TROW & SMITH 

BOOK MANUFACTURING CO., 

40, 48, 50 Greene Si, N. Y. 



Dr. ADOLF TRENDELENBURG, 



OF BEELIN, 



ESOFEKSOli IN THE UNIVERSITY, AND SECRETARY OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY, 5T0^ 



THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED 



BESPEOT AND AFFECTION 



%\)t $ttt|j0r. 




PEEFAOE. 



The work now offered to the public was prepared primarily and 
directly as a text-book for colleges and higher schools. It was also 
designed secondarily, though not less really, as a manual for more 
advanced students of psychology and speculative philosophy. It was 
hoped, also, that it might find a place in the libraries of some of the 
many readers and thinkers who wish to form clear and well-grounded 
opinions in respect to the nature and limits of human knowledge, and 
to read with intelligence and satisfaction the history of philosophy. 

The designs of the author in preparing the volume may serve r 
part to explain the selection and arrangement of the matter of whicu 
it consists, and to give greater force to a few suggestions in respect 
to its use as a text-book. 

1. The more important definitions, propositions, and arguments 
are printed in the largest type, in distinct paragraphs, and the 
paragraphs are grouped, according to the principal topics, in sepa- 
rately numbered sections. The matter in this type is somewhat 
technically phrased and formally propounded, in order that it may 
be learned more readily for the examinations of the class-room. 
At the same time the aspect of too great technical formality has 
been studiously avoided by a free expansion, in somewhat varied 
phraseology, of the leading doctrines and definitions of the work. 
While the author has desired to avail himself fully of all the advan- 
tages which accrue from formal definitions and technical terms, he 
has not hesitated to repeat and illustrate his opinions in language 
somewhat popular in its character, and with a less rigid adherence 
to scholastic or precise terminology. 



VI PREFACE. 

2. The matter which is properly explanatory and illustrative ot 
the leading propositions is printed in smaller type. This occupies 
a large portion of the volume, and will be the most interesting to 
the student and the general reader. In this part of the work the 
author has used copious illustrations wherever they were needed 
to render clear what might otherwise have been obscure, concrete 
what might have been abstract, practical what was in danger of 
being scholastic, and familiar that which required to be repeated, 
Philosophical treatises and text-books fail very often of being perused 
with interest and profit for lack of concrete illustrations and varied 
and familiar applications ; and against these defects the author has 
sought to guard this treatise. He has no fear that it will not be con- 
sidered sufficiently abstruse and scientific. In preparing this part of 
the work he has sought to meet the wants of both elementary and ad- 
vanced students, and trusts that he has not entirely failed of success. 

3. The historical, critical, and controversial matter is printed in 
the smallest type, in which will be found most of that which is 
especially abstruse and metaphysical. This part of the volume is 
designed for a smaller and more select class of students and readers. 
The insertion of matter of this kind was absolutely essential to the 
usefulness of the work for the library, and was almost equally required 
for its authority as a text-book with the higher classes of students. 
There is at present so lively an interest in the history and criticism 
of speculative opinions, and so great activity in the scrutiny of those 
principles which are fundamental to physical, ethical, and theological 
science, that the author felt compelled to introduce this critical and 
historical matter in order to indicate the higher relations of elementary 
truths, as well as to guide the student in his reading of more extended 
works in the history and criticism of philosophical systems. He is 
aware that his own sketches and criticisms are somewhat condensed 
and abstract, but is sanguine in the opinion that some of them will 
not be without value as an aid in the use of more elaborate and 
minute histories of philosophy. 

It would have been comparatively easy to prepare a manual 
embodying the principles of psychological science, with little or 
no illustration or criticism ; but a compendious manual of this kind 



PREFACE. V1L 

must either be so abstractly dry as to be unintelligible ; or so super- 
ficial as not to command the respect of the learner and reader ; or 
so imaginative as to fail to inspire confidence. The applications 
of metaphysical philosophy must be familiarized to the mind by 
ample illustrations and frequent repetition, in order that the meaning 
and importance of the principles themselves may be understood and 
appreciated. 

The following suggestions in respect to the use of the volume as a 
text-book may not be unacceptable. The matter in the largest type 
ought, in general, to regulate the length of the lessons. The examin- 
ations upon this should invariably be minute and severe. The 
explanatory and illustrative matter may be enforced more or less 
rigidly, or not at all, according^ to the interest and capacity of the 
student, and the methods and aims of the instructor. The less capable 
and less ambitious student may perhaps be held to the leading propo- 
sitions, and to a very general acquaintance with the explanatory and 
illustrative matter. The more gifted and aspiring may be encouraged 
to master as much of this, and as thoroughly, as he is disposed, and 
may be ranked and rewarded accordingly. Such of the discussions 
as might be more intelligibly and profitably studied on a second 
perusal, may be reserved for the review. The historical and critical 
notes may be used as topics and guides for more minute researches 
and more exact criticisms, in written essays, by students and readers 
still more advanced. The volume is capable of being used in the 
various methods which have been indicated, and allows liberal oppor- 
tunities for the skill and invention of the teacher. The marginal or 
side-notes are designed for the convenience of both pupils and teachers, 
and are reprinted in the synoptical table of contents. 

The philosophy taught in this volume is pronounced and posi- 
tive in the spiritual and theistic direction, as contrasted with the 
materialistic and anti-theistic tendency which is so earnestly de- 
fended by its advocates as alone worthy to be called scientific. 
The author, though earnest in his own opinions, has aimed to adhere 
most rigidly to the methods of true science, and to employ no argu- 
ments which he did not believe would endure the severest scrutiny. 



Vlll PREFACE. 

While his criticisms of opposing systems may seem to be polemical, he 
trusts they are not open to the charge of being unjust or unscientific. 

It is with some diffidence that the author brings to the tribunal 
of public criticism the results of his solitary and almost unaided 
studies. Studies of this kind must, from their very nature, be prose- 
cuted in a lonely way, and with the disadvantage of being often 
subjected to a superficial or partisan criticism. The publication 
of their results almost necessarily involves a critical, and often a 
controversial judgment of the opinions of others. As a writer upon 
such subjects cannot, if he would, avoid criticising others, so he ought 
not himself to expect or desire to be exempt from the severest 
ordeal of criticism, provided his own opinions are fairly and fully 
stated, and the counter opinions are thoroughly reasoned. The 
author has been tempted to delay the publication of his own opinions 
by the desire to mature them into a more complete philosophical 
system ; but he did not think it right to do this for an indefinite 
period, especially at a time when the need of a comprehensive manual 
for higher instruction has been very extensively acknowledged, and 
when there is inculcated, in forms that are varied and imposing, a 
psychology that seems to him at once to be pretentious and superficial, 
and to involve a philosophy that is either defective or erroneous. 

The author expects, if he continues to labor in the field of his 
chosen studies, to be able himself to detect some of the inadvertencies 
and errors into which he may have fallen. Should he be aided in 
doing this by the labors of friendly or unfriendly critics, he hopes to 
remember the words of the acute and excellent Berkeley : " Truth is 
the cry of all, but the game of a few. Certainly, when it is the chief 
passion, it doth not give way to vulgar cares and views ; nor is it con- 
tented with a little ardor in the early time of life ; active, perhaps, to 
pursue, but not so fit to weigh and consider. He that would make a 
real progress in knowledge must dedicate his age as well as youth ; 
the later growth as well as first-fruits, at the altar of Truth. ' Cujus- 
vis est crrare, nullius nisi insipientis in error e per sever are.' " 

NOAH POKTEK. 

Tale College, October, 1868. 




TABLE O 



ES"TS. 



INTRODUCTION 



PSYCHOLOGY AND THE SOUL. 



I. — Psychology Defined and Vindicated 5 

§ 1. Psychology and kindred terms. § 2. Psychology a science — Limited to the human soul. 
§ 3. Relations to physiology and anthropology. § 4. Phenomena known by consciousness. § 5. 
Its phenomena impel to scientific study — Are legitimate objects of science — Prejudices against 
psychology and metapbysics. §6. Value of psychology. It requires and promotes self-know- 
ledge — Trains to self-control. §7. Trains to the knowledge of human nature. §8. Is indispen- 
sable to educators— Variety of Educators. §9. It aids in moral culture. §10. Disciplines for 
the study of literature — Is not unfavorable to creative power. § 11. Disciplines to moral reflec- 
tion. § 12. Psychology the mother of the sciences which relate to man— Its relation to ethics — 
To political and social science — To law — To aesthetics — To theology. § 13. Special relation to 
logic and metaphysics — Relation of logic to metaphysics — Psychology subject to, yet before logic 
and metaphysics — Why psychology is so often called philosophy. § 14. A discipline to method, 



II. — The Relations of the Soul to Matter. 



16 



§ 15. Psychology a branch of physics; in what sense. § 16. Why, then, are its facts at first 
distrusted by the philosopher ? § 17. Material phenomena are the earliest known. § 18. Materi- 
alistic misgivings and impressions. § 19. These should be disproved ; in what way. § 20. The 
arguments of the materialist ; the soul is connected with a body — The soul is developed with the 
body — Is dependent on the body for its knowledge and enjoyment — Also for its energy and 
activity — It terminates a series of material existences — Conclusion of the materialist. § 21. Coun- 
ter arguments. Its phenomena unlike material phenomena — The soul distinguishes itself from 
matter — The soul is self-active — Is not dependent on matter in its highest activities — Grada- 
tions of existence do not prove it to be material — § 22. The phenomena of the soul real. § 23. 
Phenomena of one sort cannot be judged by those of another. § 24. The phenomena and lan- 
guage in which they are described. § 25. Misleading influence of language. 



The Belations of the Soul to Life and Living- Beings. — 1. 



Life and living 
29 



§ 25. Reasons for discussing the subject further — Terms defined and question stated — 
Opinions of the ancient philosophers — Opinions of the moderns — Various appellations for vital 
force — Life originates only from a living being — The process of nutrition and growth peculiar 
— Growth proceeds after a plan — Matter changes, but form is preserved — Life admits repair — 
Opposite views stated and defined — Carpenter's illustration and argument — Two other expedients 
resorted to — Not enough that they are possible — Supposed special conditions — Organization re- 
sorted to— Also creative power— Vital force admits of decay— No objection that it is individual. 

2. Relations of the Soul to Life. , 36 

History of opinions— Vital phenomena precede the psychical— The energy of the two propor- 
tional—Sometimes inversely ? — The conscious depend on unconscious activities— The soul acts on 



X- TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

matter — The soul adapted to the body — The body is moulded by the soul — The body manifests the 
soul — Objections ; the two cannot be related — But they are related — Animals and plants must 
have souls— Inconsistent with the soul's immortality — Consciousness testifies to the opposite. 

EH. — The Faculties op the Soul 40 

§ 26. Question concerning the faculties. § 27. Faculties not parts or organs — Faculties often 
misconceived — Each faculty does not act at a separate time. § 2S. States of the soul like and 
unlike one another — Elements like and unlike in quality — Dependent on one another — One ele- 
ment preponderant in each state — Elements as related to agent, act, and object. § 29. Faculty 
defined ; general authority — Special authority. § 30. These faculties common to all men—But 
not in the same proportion. § 31. The faculties not independent of one another. § 32. Rela- 
tion of faculties in education. § 33. Illustrates the unity of the soul — Unity : mechanical, che- 
mical, organic — Psychical unity is higher. § 34. Unity does not exclude complexness. § 35. 
Powers of the soul threefold— History of the division into faculties— Modern opponents of facul- 
ties. § 36. Power, faculty, capacity. § 37. Function, state, phenomenon. 

IV. — Is Psychology a Science ? — Can there he a Science of the Human 
Soul? and what are its Principles and Methods f . . 51 

§ 38. Materials of Psychology ; and inductive science — Is also the science of induction. § 39. 
Psychology too vague ; not mathematical — Reply : .would render a science of life impossible. 
§ 40. Views of materialists. § 41. The cerebralists' theory — Their theory refuted — They suppose 
consciousness. § 42. The phrenological theory — In what sense is the brain the soul's organ. 
§ 43. The Associationalist theory — Explanation of necessary truths— Error of the associationalists 
— Usuallv materialistic — Theory of Herbart. § 44. Metaphysical or a 'priori Psychology. § 45. 
Psychology of the German schools. 



THE HUMAN INTELLECT. 

Its Function, Development, and Faculties 61 

A PKELIMINAEY CHAPTEE. 

§46. Knowledge defined; what is it to know?— To know is an active operation— Exercised 
under conditions — These conditions or objects are diverse : subject-objects and object-objects. 
§ 47. The process which prepares objects of knowledge. § 48. To know implies the certainty of 
being— Beings or realities differ in their kind. § 49. Also the reality of their relations— Objec- 
tions— The truth admitted directly and indirectly— No objects without relations— Existence not 
known before or apart from relations. § 50. Knowledge of two forms ; analysis and synthesis. 
§ 51. Objects and relations different and numerous. § 52. When is the process of knowledge 
complete ? § 53. The act diverse in its energy ; attention. § 54. Some objects more easily dis- 
cerned than others. § 55. Intellectual development ; the psychological order. § 56. The logical 
relation of processes and products. § 57. Empirical and philosophical knowledge. § 58. These 
relations do not always coincide— The critical stage of knowledge. § 60. Order of intellectual 
development and growth. § 61. Order and rules for intellectual culture. § 62. Principles of 
classifying the powers of the intellect. §63. Faculties enumerated. §64. The presentative 
faculty— Its objects ; how distinguished— Its conditions. § 65. The representative faculty— Its 
objects— Its conditions ; association of ideas. § 66. Thought or intelligence, developed last 
of all— Its products— The conditions of thought— Two aspects or forms of thought. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. XI 

PART FIRST. 

PRESENTATION AND PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 
CHAPTER I. — Consciousness. I. Natural Consciousness. . 83 

§ 67. Consciousness defined— Applied to the power and its acts. § 68. Consciousness used to 
designate knowledge of any kind. § 69. A collective term for all the intellectual states. § 70. 
Metaphorical definitions of consciousness. § 71. Proper meaning of consciousness. § 72. Apper- 
ception ; why so called. § 73. Consciousness and reflection as defined and used by Locke. § 74. 
Two forms of its activity. § 75. Natural consciousness defined as an act ; necessary to many acts 
— An act of knowledge involving relations and product — A peculiar act ; in its conditions. § 76. 
Peculiar in the language by which it is described. § 77. Consciousness the object— Psychical 
states, complex objects. § 78. Relation of consciousness to each of these elements. § 79. These 
elements not always viewed with equal attention. § 80. The activity may be chiefly noticed. 
§ 81. Consciousness of the ego — Involved in the nature of a psychical state — If not known could 
not be inferred — Proved by every act of memory — Admitted by those who deny it — The relations 
to the ego not always reflected on— The Ego not the whole substance of the soul. § 82. Conscious- 
ness of the object. § 83. Summary respecting the object of consciousness. § 84. The object 
of consciousness is a being — Special import of cogito, ergo sum— Skepticism emphatically 
excluded — The conscious act does not create its object by the act. § 85. Validity of relations also 
established — The soul a microcosm — All the categories involved in consciousness — Man assumed 
to be the image of God. § 86. Development and growth of consciousness — Unconscious life — 
Sensation and self-feeling — Sensations discriminated — Emotions distinguished from sensations 
—The self not the ego— Differences in individuals— The capacity for consciousness not developed 
— Consciousness not a product of circumstances. § 87. Latent modifications of consciousness — 
Consciousness susceptible of degrees. 

CHAPTER II. — Reflective, or Philosophical Consciousness. . 104 

§ 88. The reflective contrasted with the natural consciousness. § 89. The reflective con- 
sciousness defined — The morbid consciousness in children and adults — The ethical conscious- 
ness. § 90. The scientific reflective consciousness. § 91. Characterized by persistent attention. 
§ 92. It attends to all the psychical phenomena. § 93. Compares and classifies them. § 94. In- 
terprets and explains them by power and laws. § 95. Relations of the philosophical to the natu- 
ral consciousness. § 96. Does the philosophical consciousness impart new knowledge — Illustrated 
by the knowledge of the ego and of the self. § 97. Office of language in respect to each— Language 
does not create the facts — Dangers of mere technology and system — The language of common life 
sometimes the safest — How much do uncultivated men know? — The language of common life 
useful. § 98. The actions of men also an important test of truth. § 99. Conditions of reaching 
the decisions of consciousness. § 100. Uncertainty and slow progress of psychology explained. 
§ 101. Peculiar difficulties in the study of the soul. 

PRESENTATION AND PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 

II. SENSE-PERCEPTION. 

CHAPTER III. — Sense-Perception — The Conditions and the Pro- 
cess. 119 

§ 102. Sense-perception defined and distinguished. § 103. Is developed earliest of all the 
powers; seems to be the most familiar. §104. Is not the most easily understood. §105. Distin- 
guished from other mental acts — Knowledge of matter, not gained by sense-perception. § 106. 
Knowledge that is gained by sense-perception. § 107. Results of analysis— Eight topics proposed. 



Xll TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

I. The Conditions or Media of Sense-Perception. 123 

§ 108. The conditions enumerated — The first condition— The material organism— The nervoua 
system — The sensorium — The reflex action of the nerves. § 109. The second condition is an 
object or excitant. § 110. The third condition ; its action on the sensorium. 

ii. The Process of Sense- Perception 127 

§111. The process of sense-perception in the simplest form; what?— It is psychical, not 
physiological — It is complex ; of two elements— The elements unequal in energy ; in the same 
and the different senses. § 112. Sensation proper pertains to the soul. § 113. Yet experi- 
enced by the soul connected with an organism. § 114. The sensations localized. § 115. Differ 
from one another in quality and definiteness. § 116. Perception proper, an act of pure 
knowledge; its object. §117. Its object a non-ego •> what kind of a non-ego. §118. An ex- 
tended non-ego. § 119. Perception attends all the senses — The extension and externality ; all ob- 
jects not given with equal clearness. § 120. The varying relations of sensation and perception 
proper— In different sensations of the same sense. 

CHAPTER IV. — Classes of Sense-Perceptions, . . 135 

§121. Three classes of sense -perception ; the muscular— Ranked as the lowest. §122. The 
organic — Common sensibility. § 123. The special sense-perceptions— Smell : Its organ, conditions, 
and objects — Names and character of the sensations — They are sense-perceptions. § 124. Taste : 
Organs and objects — Variety of the sensations — How designated — Gratifications — Objective rela- 
tions. § 125. Hearing : its organ — Sonorous bodies ; how characterized — The sensations various 
— In what respects distinguishable — Sounds in succession and combination ; melody and harmony. 
§ 126. The condition of oral language — Expressive of feeling — The dignity of hearing— Sounds ; 
sense-perceptions. §127. The sense of touch; organ — Weber's experiments — Essential condition 
of touch. § 128. Variety of sensations involved in touch— Sensations proper of gentle touch — 
Sensations involving violence or injury — Sensations of temperature — Sensations of pressure and 
weight — The muscular sensations — Sensations localized. § 129. Perceptions proper of touch — 
Extension and externality perceived in the concrete — Perception of extension by touch ; not ex- 
plicable by extension in the organism — Physiological conditions and psychical act— Not by local 
signs — The sensorium known as extended — § 130. The perception of externality by touch — Two 
meanings of externality — Externality in the first signification — Brown's theory — Externality in the 
second signification. § 131. Sense of touch the leading sense — Furnishes intellectual terms. § 132. 
Sight ; its organ — The conditions of vision — Function of the image on the retina — Sensations proper 
of vision. § 133. Perception proper in vision ; the object — Is always extended — Visible extension 
superficial only — Contrary view ; the stereoscope. § 134. A single object seen with two eyes. 
§ 135. Original place of the visible percept. § 136. Dignity of the eye. 

CHAPTER V. — The Acquired Sense-Perceptions, . . .158 

§ 137. Sense-perceptions original and acquired. § 138. Importance of, and time of gaining 
the acquired perceptions. § 139. The acquired perceptions of smell — The acquired perceptions 
of hearing. §140. Acquired perceptions of sight ; distance judged by size. — Judgments of mag- 
nitude by distance — Judgments of distance by color, outline, clearness, etc. — Judgments of size 
by other equidistant objects — Influence of intermediate objects. § 141. Judgments of form, etc., 
by sight. §142. Form, distance, and magnitude ; how far learned from touch. § 143. Acquired 
sense-perceptions of our own body — Acquired perceptions required to manage and control the 
body. § 144. What does nature provide in the construction and impulses of the body ? — Arrange- 
ments and impulses for bodily expression — Arrangements for the combined activity of different 
parts. § 145. How does the intellect avail itself of these arrangements? — How we learn to talk — 
How we learn to walk— Feats of dexterity; expressional effects — Summary and inferences. 
§ 146. The errors of the senses explained — How distinguished from another class. § 147. The 
acquired perceptions as acts of knowledge. § 148. They involve induction— Reasons why infants 
can make these inductions. § 149. Objections from the case of animals — Reasons why the per- 
ceptions of animals and of man should differ. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. Xlll 

CHAPTER VI. — Development and Growth of Sense-Percep* 
tion. 178 

§ 150. Nature, interest, and difficulty of the problem. § 151. The problem perplexing to the 
imagination, but not insolvable to the intellect— Data and grounds of inference. § 152. The in- 
tellect and soul before sense-perception begins — The beginnings and development of attention. 
§ 153. Muscular and vital perceptions first developed — Hearing, taste and smell. § 154. The eye 
and the hand; which acts first? — We begin with the hand. § 155. Extra-organic non-ego ; how 
perceived — Combination of muscular and tactual perceptions — Space-relations of the extra- 
organic ; how acquired— Hamilton's theory of the perception of the extra-organic. § 156. With 
the eye another problem begins — Observations upon infants. § 157. Development of vision. 
— Why percepts of vision are projected in space — Most plausible explanation. § 158. The con- 
nection of the hands as seen and the hands as touched — The world of the eye and the world of 
the hand. § 159. Other acquisitions of infancy — How the world appears to an infant. § 160. The 
blind from birth, upon the recovery of sight. 

CHAPTER VII. — The Products of Sense-Perception, or the Per- 
ception of Material Things. 192 

§ 161. Material things and sense-percepts. § 162. By what relations are percepts made into 
things ? § 163. The first stage of perception ; when complete. § 164. Material things capable 
of various significations — Percepts recalled under relations of time. §165. The second stage; 
the relation of substance and attribute — General definition of this relation. § 166. Relations 
most frequently used as attributes — Sensations of smell, taste, and sound, first used as attributes — 
Coexistence in space and time previous to substance and attribute — This relation supposes reflex 
and indirect knowledge — This relation denied to sense-perception ; Kant ; Hamilton. § 167. Of 
touch and sight percepts conjoined; which is substance and which is attribute? §168. When 
either are taken alone. § 169. Attributive quality of form and size. § 170. Conditions of per- 
manent perception — Ideation of sense-objects. § 171. When is perception complete ? § 172. First 
condition of completed perception : energy, contrast, and resemblance — Resemblances and con- 
trasts, objective and subjective — Force of contrast. § 173. Second condition is motion. § 174. 
Third condition, repetition — Need of repetition according to the receptive school. § 175. Need 
of repetition according to the active school ; because it excites greater interest — In single percepts 
— This as true of things as it is of percepts. § 176. Repetition more essential for the mastery of 
large and complex objects — Some objects are beyond the natural limits of the soul — The first per- 
ception often a mere effort of discovery and selection — Very large and complex objects require 
repetition — More frequent repetition if the objects are irregular. § 177. Fourth condition of suc- 
cessful perception is familiarity. § 178. Repetition not necessarily recognition. § 179. Continu- 
ance of time necessary for successful perception — Feats of jugglery involve quickness of move- 
ment. § 180. Can we attend to more than one thing at a time ? — Objections to Stewart's theory 
— Attention to an object and its image — The mind can attend to more than one thing at a time 
— Can the mind use the utmost attention upon more than one object ? 

CHAPTER VIII. — Activity of the Soul in Sense-Percep- 
tion 210 

§ 181. Sense-perception held to be passive only — Grounds on which the theory rests. § 182. 
That the soul is active is attested by consciousness. § 183. Its activity is developed by degrees, 
and to varying perfection — Attention the condition of success and progress. § 184. Differences 
in the perceptions of the same and of different men. § 185. Different modes of this activity; in- 
nervation of the organs — Partial suspension of certain organs. § 186. The attention fixes upon 
selected objects. § 187. Activity shown in selecting and combining sense-objects — The recog- 
nition of this activity important for the explanation of imagination and memory. § 188. This ac- 
tivity in selection and combination shown in early life — The same activity continued in mature 
life. § 189. Differences in special activities of adults. § 190. This activity directed and stimu- 
lated by the interest felt in the object. § 191. This activity is a limited and dependent activity. 
§ 192. Is elementary and easily exercised. § 193. Sense-perception ; summary and review. 



XIV TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER IX.— Theories of Sense-Perception. . . 221 

§ 194. These theories universal — Determined by the prevailing philosophy — Theii reflex influ- 
ence often mischievous — Why especially liable to be erroneous— More usually theories of vision. 
§ 195. The early Greek philosophers — Diogenes of Apollonia — Heraclitus and Empedocles— 
Democritus. § 196. The Socratic school— Plato — Aristotle — The intellectual element— The com- 
mon, sensory or percipient — Matter and form, or species. § 197. The schoolmen — Their doctrine 
of species. § 198. Gassendi, P., 1592-1655. § 199. Descartes, R., 1596-1650— Geulincx, 1625- 
1699— Malebranche, N., 1688-1715. § 200. Arnauld, A., 1612—1694. § 201. John Locke, 1632- 
1704. § 202. Berkeley, Geo., 16S4-1753— David Hume, 1711-1776. § 203. Dr. Thomas Reid, 1710- 
1796. § 204. Dugald Stewart, 1753-1828. § 205. Dr. Thomas Brown, 1778-1820. § 206. Sir 
William Hamilton, 1788-1856. § 207. De Condillac, S. B.„ 1715-1780. § 208. Laromiguiere, P., 
1756-1837. § 209. Royer Collard, P. P., 1763-1845. § 210. Maine de Biran,P. P. G., 1766-1824. 
§ 211. Leibnitz, G. W., 1646-1716. § 212. Tetens, J. N., 1736-1807. § 213. Immanuel Kant, 1724- 
1804. § 214. Herbart, J. F., 1776-1841. § 215. Schleiermacher, 1768-1834. § 216. John Miiller, 
1801-1858. 



PART SECOND. 

EEPRESENTATION AND KEPPwESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 

CHAPTER I. — The Representative Power Defined and Ex- 
plained. 248 

§ 217. Representation defined — Not limited to sensible objects — Is also a creative power. 
§ 218. Appellations for the power — Appellations in common use. § 219. Objects of the representa- 
tive power — Are individual and not general — In what sense these objects are the same. § 220. 
These objects involve relations — Relations peculiar to Representation itself— No technical name 
for the objects of this power. § 221. Conditions and laws of representation considered. § 222. 
Representation divided into several varieties — Perfect memory — Imperfect memory — Phantasy — 
Imagination ; its varieties — The mathematical imagination — Phantasy proper — Poetic fancy — 
Poetic imagination in the higher sense — Philosophical imagination. § 223. Interest and impor- 
tance of the representative power. 

CHAPTER II. — The Representative Object — its Nature and Im- 
portance ... 258 

§ 224. Why the object of Representation needs special discussion. 

I. The Nature and Mode of Existence of the Representative Object. . . . 259 

§ 225. They are psychical objects. § 226. Are transient and short-lived objects. § 227. They 
should be distinguished from spectra and hallucinations— They are intellectual objects. 

ii. The relation of the Representative Idea to the Original. . . . 261 
§ 228. The relation can be compared with no other — Two classes of representative objects. 
§ 229. Representative ideas of consciousness and sense-perception do not resemble their objects 
—Contradictions in such a theory. § 230. In memory and recognition no discernment of resem- 
blance; none in simple memory — None in recognition — The acts of memory and recognition 
known by consciousness only — Alternation of perception, memory, and recognition. § 231. Men- 
tal pictures less exciting than real objects. § 232. A mental picture consists of fewer elements 
than a real object. § 233. The mental picture is recalled in parts, slowly, and by successive acta 
—Example from a scene in nature, as seen and remembered— Objects of imagination. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. XV 

m. The usefulness of Ideas in Thought and Action. . 266 

§ 234. In thought we prefer ideas to realities— The idea presents fewer features than th« 

reality. § 235. Ideas especially useful in comparison — In higher generalizations, still fewer 

elements are required. § 236. The nature and service of the schema. § 237. Images prepare for 

and aid to action. 

CHAPTER III. — The Conditions and Laws of xvepeesentatton — the 
Association of Ideas 269 

§ 238. Association of ideas ; general fact ; various terms. § 239. Importance and interest oi 
the subject — Association used to explain all other facts and laws. § 240. Method of discussion 
and inquiry. 

I. The Primary Laws of Association 272 

§ 241. Association not explained by bodily organization. § 242. Defect of all physiological 
and corporeal theories — Facts relating to the connection of the body with the imagination and 
memory. § 243. How these facts can be accounted for and explained — Any disturbance of th 
bodily state introduces disturbing sensations. § 244. The vital sensations, though vague, ma* 
be links in a chain of associations. § 245. The laws of association cannot be referred to any 
attractive power in ideas as such— Herbart's theory of the attraction of ideas. § 246. Nor into 
the force of relations as such— These relations variously classed — Relations of place— Relations of 
time — Both in conjunction — Relations of similarity and contrast — Relations of cause and effect — 
Of means and end, etc. — Are not other relations supposable ? — Cannot these relations be reduced 
to a single law ? § 247. The law of redintegration — Will this explain all these particular cases ? 
— The relations of time, space, and causation — The relation of similarity occasions difficulty — 
How the difficulty is resolved. § 248. The parts and wholes are not the same, but similar. § 249. 
The explanation is not in the objects, but in the mind's activity — The real explanation ; how 
enounced — This principle explains the force of succession— Explains the power of feeling over the 
associations. § 250. Explains the predominance of special associations. § 251. Explains the in- 
fluence of sensible objects — Associations with home. § 252. Explains the power of bodily states. 
§ 253. Explains why a part and not the whole is often represented. § 254. Explains why relations 
are so important. § 255. Finally, why certain classes of relations give the laws of association. 

h. The Secondary Laws of Association 286 

§ 256. The secondary laws defined— The same enumerated. § 257. How far reducible to 
the same principle with the primary — The force of repetition — The recentness of the object 
thought of— The memory of old age — The force of entangling relations — Natural aptitudes. § 25S. 
Apparent exceptions to the law of association. §259. Two theories for their explanation. §260. 
Representation unceasingly active. § 261. Objective interruptions to this activity. § 262. 
Subjective interruptions. § 263. Association not the only nor the most important power — Depen- 
dent very largely upon the emotions and will. § 264. Indirect control over the associations — 
Illustrations from common phenomena. § 265. Law of association and law of habit — Which is 
resolvable into the other ? § 266. Theory of habit— Supposes some difficulty to be overcome — 
Bodily habits. § 267. Mental habits ; obstacles to be overcome— Wherein the difficulty lies- 
Emotional and moral habits. § 268. Higher and lower laws of association— In what sense higher 
and lower. § 269. The higher often prevail over and displace the lower. Absent-mindedness ex- 
plained. § 270. The lower displace the higher. § 271. The lower associations affect the feelings 
most efficiently — How and why fashions change — The moral influence of casual associations. 
§ 272. Influence of casual associations upon language — Force of epithets and names — Their in- 
fluence in philosophy. 

CHAPTER IY. — Representation. — (1.) The Memory, or Recognizing 
Faculty. 300 

§ 273. The elements essential to an act of memory. § 274. These elements may be recalled 
with unequal perfection— The object proper, of the original act — The original act of knowledge— 



XVI TABLE OP CONTENTS. 

Its relations of time— Its relations of place. § 275. The act of recognition may vary in positive 
ness— Do we never distrust the memory? — Do we not offer reasons far trusting it? § 276. 
Memory technically defined. § 277. Representation the first element of memory— Recognition, 
the second element. § 278. The spontaneous and intentional memory. § 279. The spontaneous 
memory. § 280. Original differences in the spontaneous memory — The relations peculiar to it. 
§ 281. The value of a good spontaneous memory. § 282. The combination of a spontaneous and 
rational memory. § 283. The intentional memory defined— The object vaguely known already. 
§ 284. The object sought for related to an object known — Several ways of recovering the object 
sought for. § 285. The active element prominent — Must avail itself of the passive element. 
§ 286. Memory as the power to retain. § 287. The power to retain ; how accounted for— Figura- 
tive language concerning the memory. § 288. The ready and the tenacious memory. § 289. For- 
getfulness — Degrees and varieties of forgetfulness. § 290. Is entire forgetfulness possible ? — Sin- 
gular cases of the recovery of forgotten knowledge. § 291. Dependence of the memory upon 
the bodily condition — Dependence upon the season and the time of the day. § 292. Dependence 
on the condition of the body in the act of recalling — Sudden loss of memory. § 293. How these 
cases are explained— May all knowledge be recovered. § 294. Varieties of memory ; how ex- 
plained. § 295. Development of memory ; the memory of infancy. § 296. The memory of 
childhood and youth. § 297. Self-culture of the memory. § 298. The memory of manhood. 
§ 299. The memory of old age. § 300. Special and individual varieties of memory. § 301. Varie- 
ties of memory depend on objects and their relations — The memory of the undisciplined mind. 
§ 302. The memory of the young and of older persons. § 303. The men of universal memory : 
Niebuhr and Pascal. § 304. The memory of the ancients. § 305. The laws of memory should 
be regarded in education. § 306. How can the memory be cultivated ?— Fundamental principles 
and rules. § 307. Artificial memory, or mnemonics — Value of mnemonics— Objections to mnemo- 
nics — When are they useful ? — General Bern's Historical mnemonics. § 308. Coleridge's arts of 
memory. § 309. The moral elements of a good memory — How to destroy and confound the memory. 

CHAPTER V. — Representation. — (2.) The Phantasy, ok Imaging 
Power 325 

§310. Phantasy defined and illustrated — Reverie; Infancy; Old age — Why phantasy infre- 
quent. Trains of association. §311. Fainting; Sleep; Distraction. §312. Three suppositions 
possible of the states in question — The power of association is operative in them all — Deviations 
accounted for — (1.) By changes in the relative proportion of the powers — (2.) By the bodily states 
— (3.) By other peculiarities in the materials on which it works. § 313. More particular consid- 
eration of the conditions of representation — Unnoticed bodily states maybe reproduced in dream- 
ing, etc. — The pre-conscious experiences and states— The bodily condition excites peculiar images 
—The creative power of the phantasy not to be denied. 

i. Sleep as a Condition of the Body, or Sleep Physiologically considered. 831 
§ 314. The senses, in sleep, are more or less inert — They are not controlled by the soul — The 
vegetative, circulatory, and respiratory life — Recent discoveries and conclusions — These condi- 
tions vary in proportion and degree. § 315. The soul falls asleep by degrees — One sense may 
sleep, and others may be awake. 

ii. Sleep as a Condition of the Soul, or, Sleep considered Psychologically. 333 
§ 316. Does the soul cease to act in sleep ?— Reasons why many believe it never ceases to act- 
Opinions of Descartes, Locke, and Leibnitz. § 317. The soul, in sleep, acts with feebler energy— 
The powers also act with unequal and varying energy. § 318. The representative power in sleep. 
§319. Is irregular and capricious ; Reasons. § 320. The judgments erroneous and wild; why? 
§ 321. The reasoning and other higher functions, in dreams. § 322. Self-consciousness in dreams. 
8 323. Estimates of time in dreams. § 324. Moral responsibility in dreams. § 325. The emotional 
powers in dreams. § 326. The activity of the will in dreams. § 327. Three kinds of somnambu- 
lism. § 328. Natural somnambulism defined. § 329. Magnetic somnambulism— The natural and 
magnetic distinguished. § 330. Disease manifested by a disturbance of the equilibrium of the 
powers. §331. Representation active in somnambulism. §332. Some of the sense-perceptions act 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. XVH 

with surprising energy. §333. Does the somnambulist perceive at all with the senses? — Th6 
sense-perceptions, though acute, are limited — This extraordinary acuteness not without analogies. 
§ 334. Can the somnambulist have sense-perceptions without the sense-organs ? — First, of neai 
objects — Second, of objects remote — Third, of the interior of the body. § 335. Fourth, other 
extraordinary intellectual activities — His attention is concentrated — And occupied with few 
objects — Also with familiar objects — The efforts are occasional and single — The power of divina- 
tion and prophecy. § 336. The somnambulist usually forgets his dream when he wakes. § 337. 
The somnambulist remembers a previous somnambulic state — Capacity for alternating states and 
activities. § 338. The artificial somnambulism ; Induced by the agency of another person. § 339. 
Hypnotism explained — How related to somnambulism. § 340. How one mind is controlled by 
another. § 341. Still higher claims. § 342. Hallucinations, apparitions, etc. § 343. Hallucina- 
tions and spectra, not psychical representations. § 344. Insanity. 

CHAPTER VI. — Representation. — (3.) The Imagination, ok Ceeative 
Powee. .... 351 

§ 345. Subject and method of inquiry— Conditions and materials common to the imagination 
— Space and time — Thought conceptions and relations — The imagination limited to material 
qualities— Limited also to known spiritual powers. § 346. It creates new products ; In relation 
to space and time — In the size of material objects — In their relative position — It changes material 
forms — It alters the relations of time. § 347. It creates mathematical entities ; In geometry — In 
arithmetic and algebra. § 348. In matter, it separates and recombines parts and properties. 
§ 349. It can combine spiritual beings with wholes and parts of matter — Imaginary intellectual 
and emotional creations. § 350. Products under thought-relations. § 351. How does the imagina- 
tion create ? "^ 

i. The Combining and arranging Office of the Imagination. . . 357 
§ 352. It combines and arranges parts and wholes — Limits and laws of the produets evolved. 

ii. The Idealization of the relation of Space and Time in the Creations of Art 
and the Constructions of Mathematical Science. .... 358 

§ 353. It constructs ideals of mathematics and art — These products suggested by, not 
copied from nature. § 354. Geometrical and arithmetical quantities. 

in. The Formation of an Ideal Standard for Psychical Acts and States. . 359 
§ 355. The imagination idealizes psychical acts and states. § 356. It expresses them by sense 
objects. § 357. The products of the creative imagination ; What is an ideal ? — The ideals are not 
images, but images viewed in limited relations — The ideals of the artist; and inventor — Psychical 
and ethical ideals. § 358. Ideals founded on and related to individual experience. § 359. The 
imagination is capable of growth and culture — The imagination accompanies all the psychical acts. 
§ 360. Is developed from the earliest till the latest periods of life. § 361. Nature educates the 
imagination. § 362. The educated imagination meets the exigencies which call it forth. 

Special Applications of the Imagination. — (a) The Poetic Imagination. 366 

§ 363. The imagination modifies and is modified by the other powers — The poetic imagination 
— The sources or materials of poetry — Preeminently human truth — Poetry simple, sensuous, and 
passionate — Poetry, in its higher forms, unites and fuses — In its lower, it separates and scatters— 
Its medium is language. 

(h) Tlie Philosophic Imagination. ........ 368 

1 364. Relations of the imagination to thought and science— Relations to invention and dis- 
covery — The poetical and philosophical imagination nearly allied— Objections to this view. § 366. 
In communicating philosophic truth. 



XV111 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

(c) The Ethical Imagination 871 

§ 367. Ethical relations of the imagination— Relation of ideals to our happiness. § 368. Ideals 
of life necessarily ethical — Ideals of duty may be changed and improved. 

(d) Imagination and Eeligious Faith 373 

§ 369. Relation of the imagination to religious faith— "We must imagine as well as believe 
in spiritual facts — The process ; and its trust-worthiness. § 370. The imagination limited in 
its pictures of another state of being. §371. Common relations in the finite and the infinite- 
Necessary cautions in conceiving and interpreting revelation. 



PART THIRD. 

THINKING AND THOUGHT-KNOWLEDGE. 
CHAPTER I. — Thought-knowledge Defined and Explained. 377 

§372. To what processes are the terms applied? — The relation of these processes to man's 
higher knowledge— The dignity of thought-processes. § 373. The thought-processes illustrated 
by an example— The apple as substance and attribute— Abstraction and generalization— Classi- 
fication and naming — Geometrical and numerical relations — Cause and effect — Induction — Adapta- 
tion and design — Example from spiritual being. § 374. Thinking and thought defined. § 375. 
The use of the terms justified — What these terms do not imply. § 376. Appellations for the 
power of thinking — Terminology and influence of Locke's Essay. § 377. Two aspects of thought 
—Often distinguished as two faculties. § 378. Forms and laws of thought ; Forms of being. 
§ 379. Relation of thought to the lower powers — In what sense active from the first. § 380. Con- 
crete and abstract thinking— By whom is concrete thinking performed ? — Difficulty of abstract 
thinking — Errors of those who think only in the concrete — Of those who think in the abstract. 
§ 381. Relation of knowledge by experience and by thought. § 382. Relation of thought to 
language — A limited language indicates limited thought — The study of words a study of thought. 

CHAPTER II. — Thought — the Formation of the Concept, or 
Notion 388 

§ 383. Material objects perceived before concepts are formed — Perceived objects are known to 
be similar — This involves analysis of their relations— Beings distinguished from their attributes. 
% 384. Abstraction ; to abstract and to prescind — Comparison — Generalization — The attribute 
affirmable of many beings — These processes performed by all men. § 385. Presuppose the dis- 
tinction of substance and attribute— This distinction not discerned by sense-perception— Nor 
strictly speaking, by consciousness. § 3S6. The product, a concept, or notion ; Import of these 
terms— The reality of the product questioned— Concept not a percept — Not a mental image— No 
existing individual corresponds to the concept. § 387. Is a relative object of knowledge— In 
what sense is the concept a symbol ?— The concept more than a name. § 388. The concept re- 
spects attributes or relations— Can brutes form concepts?— The concept respects relations only. 
§ 389. Concepts as concrete and abstract. § 390. Notions as simple and complex— No simple 
ideas or beings in nature. § 391. Content and extent of notions— Content defined— Extent defined 
—Extent usually measured by species— Definition and division — Content inversely as extent. 
§ 392. Classification, how does it arise ?— Children classify rudely— How savages classify. § 393. 
The classifications of science— Classification not peculiar to science— What the nomenclature of a 
science represents. § 394. Classification and systemization— The relation of both to knowledge. 
§395. How much do we gain by knowing by concepts ? §396. The significance of classifica- 
tion— The significance of naming objects— The varying import of the concept salt. § 397. Rela« 
lion of knowledge by concepts and by intuitions. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. XIX 

CHAPTER III. — The Nature op the Concept. — Sketch of Theo- 
ries. 403 

§ 398. The doctrines of Socrates and Plato. § 399. Aristotle and the Aristotelians. § 400. 
Porphyry ; 233-305 ; His questions ; Boetbius ; 470 ? 524— The Realists ; The Conceptualists ; 
The Nominalists ; The motto of each. § 401. The Scholastics— Eric of Auxerre; 9th Century — 
Roscellinus ; + 1106. '—William of Champeaux ; 1070-1121— Abelard, 1097-1143— Albertus Mag- 
nus; 1193-1280— Thomas Aquinas ; 1226-1274— John Duns Scotus; t 1308— William of Occam; 
1 1347. § 402. These discussions not deserving of neglect or contempt. § 403. Modern Philoso- 
phers : Thomas Hobbes. § 404. John Locke. § 405. G. W. Leibnitz. § 406. Geo. Berkeley 
and David Hume. § 407. Thomas Reid and Dugald Stewart. § 408. Dr. Thomas Brown. §409. 
Sir William Hamilton. § 410. John Stuart Mill. § 411. Herbert Spencer. § 412. Immanuel 
Kant. § 413. J. G. Fichte. § 414. G. W. F. Hegel. § 415. J. F. Herbart. 

CHAPTER IV. — The Nature of the Concept. — Conclusions from the 
History of Theories. 413 

§ 416. The concept an object and not an act. § 417. Implies the distinction of beings and 
attributes. § 418. It is a related object. § 419. Involves the recognition of similarity. § 420 
Can be used for naming. § 421. It is a classifying agent. § 422. It is applied to an object on 
the ground of its import. § 423. The import is exemplified by individuals. § 424. The concept 
can be referred to individual objects — The process explained — The concept, in its very nature, is 
relative to the individual — Different images illustrate the same concept — Very generalized concepts 
most need to be imaged. § 425. The concept is aided by the name ; The necessity of language 
— The name is sensuous and individual — It is a sign of a part of the relations of the individual — 
Names prepare for new distinctions and discoveries — Names suggest only the relations which we 
require — Experience demonstrates the value of language to thought — This explains the doctrine 
of the nominalist— It proves also that the name requires a concept. § 426. The truth represented 
by realism — Accidental properties and relations — Permanent classifications and concepts — The 
classifications of botany — The name usually signifies a permanent and important thing — These 
permanent concepts and things sought by the realist — The mistakes of the realists — Are there 
permanent classes and species in nature ? § 427. The relation of symbolic to intuitive knowl- 
edge — Its ground already explained — Words valuable for definition and impression — Advantage 
of intuition above description — Words more inadequate in mere description — Language operates 
largely by suggestion — Language often very inadequate — The symbolism of the invisible and the 
spiritual world — Can the infinite be described by or to the finite ? — Man may be in the image of 
God. 

CHAPTER V. — Judgment and the Proposition. . . . 430 

§ 428. The concept formed by an act of judgment — How represented in many logical treatises 
— (1.) Proved by the analysis of the act — (2.) Implied in the nature of the concept as relative — (3.) In 
the nature of names — (4.) In the nature of knowledge — Mutual relations of the concept and the 
judgment. § 429. Judgments are psychological and logical — Judgments of mental entities — How 
the subject of a judgment is expressed in language. § 430. How does the logical differ from the 
psychological judgment ? — Any concept is capable of being subject or predicate. § 431. The 
signification of the copula — The copula does not imply actual existence. § 432. Judgments of 
content and extent — Natural and scientific judgments of content — Essence, real and nominal. 
S 433. Real and logical truth the copula ambiguous — The import of the copula, how interpreted 
—Real and logical truth sometimes confounded. 

Propositions of extent follow those of content— Of especial importance in science — Logical 
divisions of propositions of extent. § 434. Propositions of content and extent imply one another. 
§ 435. Definition and division perfected in science — Relation of scientific to common knowledge 
— Not easy to divide common and scientific knowledge — Science rightly conceived and defined. 

CHAPTER VI. — Reasoning — Deduction or Mediate Judgment. 439 

§ 436. Importance of reasoning — Reasoning is a mode of thinking. § 437. Reasoning involves 
judgment — Is itself an act of judgment— Immediate or direct judgments— Mediate or indirect 



XX TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

judgments — Reasoning inductive and deductive — The two distinguished. § 438. The two process 
as often conjoined — Often very intimately blended. § 439. Reasoning, an act of knowledge and 
^f thought. 

Deduction and the Syllogism. 443 

§ 440. Agreement and differences of opinion— Our discussion psychological, not logical 
or metaphysical. § 441. The process and the product — The Enthymeme and the Syllogism — 
The middle term ; its significance. § 442. Is the Syllogism a or the form of deduction ? — 
The Syllogism, a completed process and product of deduction — Possible changes in the form 
of the Syllogism. § 443. Problem or question proposed — The middle term significant — The dictum 
of Aristotle — The maxim of Hamilton — Dictum of agreement or non-agreement of the terms — 
Dictum of substitution — Dictum of J. S. Mill — How related to the dictum of Hamilton. § 444. 

None of these dicta satisfactory — The Syllogism not a petitio principii The Syllogism not 

identical with induction — Class relations do not explain either process— Whately's doctrine of 
the Syllogism. § 445. The relation of reason to consequent — Is a relation of concepts to con • 
cepts. § 446. Depends on the relation of causes and laws — How does this relation become a rea 
sou ? — View of Aristotle — The scholastic logicians — Leibnitz an exception. § 447. The reason or 
ground wider than cause or law. § 448. Relation of causes to law. § 449. Geometrical reasons. 
§ 450. Immediate Syllogisms. 

CHAPTER VII. — Reasoning. — Varieties of Deduction. . . 454 

§ 451. The varieties are three; these subdivided. § 452. Probable reasoning defined — The 
epithet explained and qualified — Founded upon causes and laws — In the sphere of matter — In the 
sphere of spirit — In history — In the legal argument — "Why more satisfactory in matter than in spirit. 
§ 453. Mathematical reasoning — The entities or beings to which it relates — These entities are con- 
cepts — Their properties not material nor spiritual. § 454. Can be expanded in propositions of 
content — Definitions postulates. § 455. Mathematical propositions of extent. § 456. Axioms of 
two kinds— How far applicable to Arithmetic and Geometry — Analytic and synthetic axioms — 
Mathematical definitions self-explaining — Do axioms or definitions sustain deduction? § 457. 
The construction of geometrical figures ; Auxiliary lines — Tentative processes often required- 
New constructions furnish new material — Geometrical reasoning resolved into construction — Also 
into induction — By others purely hypothetical. § 458. Geometrical quantities measurable — Mis- 
application of this fact. § 459. Geometrical reasoning explained by an example — Generalization 
in the process — Deduction in arithmetic and algebra. § 460. Immediate Syllogisms — Examples — 
Opposition — Conversion. § 461. On what does the reasoning rest? — All deduction is logical ; 
Logical laws — Technical logical deduction — Hypothetical reasoning. % 462. Two elements in 
most acts of deduction — The invention and establishment of middle terms — Often the most impor- 
tant part of the process. § 463. Does deduction add to our knowledge ? — What a man may need 
to be taught— Deduction, in fact, enlarges our knowledge— Deduction may not teach new facts. 
§ 464. The knowledge of relations more important. 

CHAPTER VIII. — Inductive Reasoning or Induction. . 469 

§ 465. Inadequate definition of induction — Inductions of this kind cannot be used in deduction 
—Such inductions styled the purely or only logical. § 466. Examples of proper induction. § 467. 
Such inductions are constantly made. § 468. In what respects inductions differ from simple 
judgments. § 469. Relation of experience to induction — Caution to be used in these judgments. 
§ 470. Importance of a correct theory of induction — Examples of inductions of common life. 
§ 471. The inductions of science — Franklin's induction of electricity — Dr. Black's discovery of 
carbonic acid gas — Lavoisier's discovery of oxygen — Dalton's induction of chemical equivalents 
— Davy's discovery of potassium, etc. — Induction of the identity of the electric and chemical forces. 
§ 472. The order of thought in these inductions— Discoveries in theoretical astronomy ; Coperni- 
cus — Preparations for the discovery of Newton — Process by which Newton came to his induction. 
§ 473. Why inductions in physics are the most striking — Do not differ from those of common life. 
§ 474. Why are the inductions of science more difficult? § 475. The indications less obtrusiva 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. XXI 

§ 476. Kequire more discriminating observations. § 477. The inductions of science more com- 
prehensive. § 478. Recognize mathematical relations. § 479. One induction prepares the way 
for another. § 480. The problem of induction remains unsolved. § 481 . Certain relations a priori 
must be assumed. §482. Neural to ask what truths are implied. § 4S3. Relation of substance 
and attribute. § 484. Relations of causation. § 485. The reality of time and space, and their 
•elations. § 486. That some properties indicate others — The uniformity of the powers and laws 
of nature — The alleged ground of such uniformity. § 487. That adaptation rules in nature — Two 
species of adaptation. § 488. Similarity of the human and divine intellect. § 489. The three 
f ules of induction — These are rules for experiment — Relation of these rules to common sense — 
They presuppose an hypothesis or suggestion. § 490. What suggests the hypothesis or prudens 
qucestio — Some say no answer can be given. § 491. The attention must be familiar with the 
objects. § 492. The relations of objects must be attended to. § 493. Both objects and relations 
must be familiar to the mind. § 494. The constructive imagination must be employed — The 
memory must be tenacious and ready — A mind quick and ready to recall and construct ; Accident 
— A lively curiosity must be present. § 495. A wise judgment must decide between hypotheses 
—By what standard. § 496. The intellect's appeals to itself. § 497. Kepler's saying — Who is the 
most successful interpreter of nature ? § 498. The capacity of ready deduction. § 499. The 
experiment, its place and importance— Relation of experiment to observation. § 500. Lord 
Bacon's eminent services. 

CHAPTER IX. — Scientific Arrangement. — The System. . 494 

§ 501. The simplest example of a system. § 502. A notion applied in its content and extent. 
§ 503. Notions which indicate permanent properties or laws. § 504. When established by induc- 
tion and applied in deduction. § 505. Properties which explain and predict phenomena. § 506. 
Scientific system more or less widely applicable. § 507. Systems of abstract concepts and rules. 



PART FOURTH. 

INTUITION AND INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE. 
CHAPTER I. — The Intuitions Defined and Enumerated. . 497 

§ 508. Certain assumptions implied in induction — Also in the other processes of knowledge — 
Also in the definition of knowledge. § 509. We enter upon the critical stage of our studies — We 
turn the power of thought back upon all the intellectual processes. § 510. Relation of these in- 
quiries to metaphysical investigations. § 511. We do not learn the intuitions by the ordinary 
powers and processes — They have been referred to a separate faculty. § 512. The appellations by 
which they are known — Difference of opinion in respect to these intuitions — Described in vague 
and figurative language — Relation of first principles to intuitions and categories. § 513. Not ac- 
quired first in the order of time — Locke's discussion of innate propositions and ideas — It is im- 
possible that the propositions or their elements should be apprehended so early — They are, in fact, 
attained last in the order of time. § 514. They stand first in logical importance — Yarious signifi- 
cations of the term principle — A constituent element called a principle — A causal agent — A premise 
—especially the major premise— A truth or law generalized by induction— The ultimate truths of 
any science or art. § 515. Preeminently concepts and relations that are ultimate in knowledge — 
The infinite and the absolute are principles. § 516. The relation of intuition to experience — Tes- 
timony of Leibnitz, Reid, Kant— Testimony of Cousin— Successive forms in which they are evolv- 
ed — They are apprehended in the concrete, not in the abstract — They are best expressed in propo- 
sitions:— These propositions are singular, not general — These propositions pass into concepts — The 
condition of generalizing these propositions and concepts — Relation of these to other generaliza- 
tions. § 517. Stages by which they are developed — First stage, the apprehension of the concrete 
object— The second, of the objects as related — Third, the apprehension of the relation abstracted— 



XX11 TABLE OP CONTENTS. 

The fourth, apprehension of the relation as fundamental— The fifth, apprehension of correlates 
§ 518. Explains why they are distinctly known by so few — Tested by the language of men. 
§519. Recognized in the actions when denied in theory. §520. Criteria— They are universal— Firs* 
truths are necessary— They are independent of other truths. § 521. They are not discovered by 
induction. § 522. They are not major premises for syllogisms — In their nature cannot prove any 
thing. § 523. They are independent of one another — Hegel's development of the categories- 
Why they seem to be dependent on one another. § 524. Distinguished into three classes — Why 
difficult to determine and classify them. § 525. The formal categories. § 526. The mathematical 
or logical essence. § 527. The real categories. 

CHAPTER II. — Theories op Intuitive Knowledge, . . 517 

§ 528. The theory of a direct mental vision of first truths. § 529. The theory that they ara 
discerned by the light of nature. § 530. That they are innate or connate. § 531. The views of 
Locke and his school — Locke's views of innate ideas — His statements were unguarded — His two 
sources of knowledge — Condillac and other disciples — Hume's relation to Locke — The Associational 
School — Dr. Reid and the Scottish School— The French SchooL § 532 — Kant and his School. 
§ 533. Criticism of Kant's sceptical conclusions — The conclusion is purely speculative — Unsup- 
ported by analogy— It is self-destructive and suicidal. § 534. Hamilton's Positive and Negative 
Necessity. § 535. The theory of Faith as contrasted with knowledge— Sanctioned by Descartes— By 
Kant in his Practical Reason — By Jacobi under various titles — Schleiermacher's feeling of depen- 
dence — Chalybaeus, Reiff, and Lotze — This theory sanctioned by Hamilton also — Reasons why it is 
plausible. § 536. J. G-. Fichte. § 537. Schelling's view of the categories. § 538. Hegel's theory 
of pure thought. § 539. Herbart's Theory. § 540. Trendelenburg's theory of motion. 

CHAPTER HI— Formal Relations op Categories, . . 526 

§ 541. The category of being — In what sense fundamental — Beings of different sorts — Being 
apprehended in different ways. § 542. The most abstract of all the categories— Explained by 
concrete being — Psychologically concrete being is first apprehended — Logically, it is fundamental. 
§ 543. The apprehension of being expressed in propositions — Being not a relation or attribute. 
§ 544. It cannot be defined — It is conceived and spoken of as an attribute. § 545. A wholly inde- 
terminate concept — Hegel makes being equal to nothing — Not without signification. § 546. Rela. 
tionship ; Diversity — Diversity the most extensive — Present in all forms of knowledge. § 547. 
Expressed in a proposition— Relative notions ; Negative notions — At first individual, afterwards 
generalized — The concept nothing — Hegel's view of nothing — The error of Hegel — Xenophanes 
and Spinoza — Substance and attribute formally conceived. § 548. The relation of identity — Affirm- 
ed of mental existence— Or of material — Of a purely mental product — The law of identity, etc., in 
logic — Concern the relations of concepts to concepts — The law of identity guards against a twofold 
danger — Uses and aims of the law of identity — Logical founded on real identity. § 549. The law 
of contradiction— Excluded middle. § 550. Misapplication of the law of identity— Kant resolved 
these la^ws into forms of thought — Schelling and Hegel's view of identity. 

CHAPTER IV. — Mathematical Relations : Time and Space. . 537 

I. Extension as given in Sense-Perception; or, the Relations of Matter which 
introduce and, require the Knowledge of Space 537 

§ 551. All matter is known as extended— The extension at first blended with matter. § 552. De- 
velopment of the several relations of extension — Void or inclosing space — Matter incloses void 
space ; is movable ; has place and direction. § 553. Analysis resolves these relations one by one — 
Suggests many inquiries. 

ii. Of Time as apprehended in Consciousness; or, the relations of Events which 

introduce and involve the Knowledge of Time 539 

§ 554. Duration, how related to the acts of the soul— The acts of the soul not distinguished at 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. XX1D 

first. § 555. The continuance of two classes of activities — The present, past, and future. § 556. 
Duration void of events — Consciousness carefully defined. 

in. Of Mutual Relations of Extended and Enduring Objects. . . 541 

§ 557. The mind discerns extended and enduring objects together — But not with equal atten- 
tion. § 558. Duration transferred to mathematical phenomena. § 559. The measures of duration 
taken from extended being — The language of duration taken from the same. 

iy. The Relations of Quantity as applicable to Space and Time Objects. 543 

§ 560. Extended objects measure one another— Enduring psychical phenomena do the same. 
§ 561. Measurement requires number— The relation of number, how developed— Relations of 
number. § 562. The relation of number defined. 

v. Of Extended and Enduring Objects as imaged or represented ; or, Space and 
Time Objects as enlarged and measured by Imagination. . . 545 

§ 563. Limitations of sense-perception — Within these limits we divide as we please. § 564. 
Beyond these we use the imagination — How the child imagines distant objects — The uncul- 
tivated man. § 565. Measures of time-objects imaginary — Different capacities in different men 
—Differences in the estimates of time— Estimates of space and time in dreams. § 566. Measure- 
ments which involve number and magnitude— "Whence standards for both are derived— How they 
are pictured. 

vi. Of Space and Time Objects as generalized ; or, the Concepts of the Relations 
of Objects to Time and Space, , 550 

§ 567. How the relations of space and time objects are generalized. § 563. These relations in- 
dividual and general. 

vii. Of Mathematical Quantity ; the Process by which its Concepts are Evolved, 
and their Relations to Time and Space 551 

§ 569. Two classes of mathematical concepts — How geometrical concepts are originated. 
§ 570. Rest on what assumptions — Postulates of Geometrical quantity. § 571. Conditions of the 
concepts of number— Relations of number can be symbolized by any objects. § 572. The prin- 
cipal concepts of number. § 573. The application of number to magnitude. 

viii. Of the Application of Mathematical Conceptions to Material Phe- 
nomena. ........ 554 

§ 574. Why and how far mathematical concepts are applicable to material objects — Ex- 
ample in Mechanics— Newton's great laws of Mechanics. § 575. All material objects susceptible 
of mathematical relations— Applications to chemistry — To light and optics— To sound and acous- 
tics—To heat— The doctrine of the correlation of forces. 

ix. Of the Application of Mathematical Relations to Psychical Phenomena. 557 

§ 576. Application of mathematics to the science of the soul ; arguments for it — Arguments 
against this view. 

x. The Relation of Time and Space Concepts to Motion. . . . 558 
§ 577. Can time and space relations, etc., be still further generalized ? — The universality of 
motion suggests space-relations — Also the relations of position and of rest — Absolute relations of 
time — Time-relations ; how suggested by motion — Also mathematical quantities — In what sense 
is motion the condition of generalization ? — Two objections ; first, that motion supposes Space 
and Time— Their relations to motion not necessarily adverted to— It is urged that the rates 



XXIV TABLE OP CONTENTS. 

of motion are estimated by time — Second objection, that direction is required as well as motion, 
§ 578. Extended and enduring objects are limited— Mathematics recognizes measurable and 
therefore definite quantity. 

xi. Of Space and Time, as Infinite and Unconditioned. . . . 562 

§ 579. Extension and duration distinguished from, but related to space and time — These rela- 
tions not always distinctly adverted to — Discerned at the last of the stages of Intellectual develop- 
ment. § 580. They limit objects and events. § 581. Extension and duration affirmed of things and 
events only. § 582. In what sense Space and Time are unlimited — They are not simply negatively 
related — Antinomies of Hamilton and Kant. § 583. Space and Time cannot be generalized under 
higher concepts. § 584. They cannot properly be defined — Proved by language. § 585. They 
are known as the conditions of their limited correlates — Are themselves the correlates of the ex- 
tended and enduring — What are space and time? — They are not substances — Nor are they 
material or spiritual properties; they are not relations — Nor are they subjective forms of the intel- 
lect—Kant's doctrine open to two objections— How space and time are knowable. 

CHAPTER V. — Causation and the Relation of Causation. . 569 

§ 586. Causation as a principle and as a law — How the two are stated — Tautology to be avoid- 
ed — Power and law, how distinguished. § 587. What is an event ? — Events in the material world 
— In the vegetable and animal world — In the mental world— In the production of new beings. 
§ 588. Many events are combined of several — Every cause is an acting being. § 589. Causes 'distin- 
guished from conditions — When conditions are laws. § 590. The principle of causality intuitive- 
ly evident — Ground of explaining events — Ground of seeking to account for an event unexplained 
— Ground of prediction — Ground of curiosity — Relation to thought and scientific processes — 
Confirmed by language — Meets all the criteria of a first principle. § 591. Resolved by many into 
a time-relation — The Theory of Hume ; its importance — The Theory of Hume as briefly summed 
up — Does not profess to be universal in its application — Why it fails to satisfy the mind — A special 
application of his general theory — The Theory of Dr. Thomas Brown — The Theory of John Stuart 
Mill — Summary of Mill's Theory ; its relations to the theories of Hume and Brown. § 592. Time- 
relations attend, but do not constitute the causal — Time-relations cannot explain deduction — Seven 
theories counter to our own. § 593. Causation inexplicable by Induction or association — The ad- 
vocates overlook the real question — Experience cannot go beyond its own limits — Induction as- 
sumes and requires the belief to be original — Much less explicable by association. § 594. Not 
resolvable into outward or inner experience, or both ; Locke's view — The theory in all its forms 
untenable— Relations of the doctrines of Locke to those of Hume and Mill — Inconsistent with 
Locke's doctrine of knowledge — Hume's objection to the doctrine of Locke. § 595. Theories of 
Royer-Collard and M. de Biran. § 596. Isthe theory correct? — 1. Do we gain the notion of pow- 
er from consciousness? — 2. Do we make it universal by natural induction? — De Biran's view of 
first principles. § 597. We image our concepts of causality by conscious experience — The infer- 
ences of children and savages explained. § 598. Inferences from the theory that causation per- 
tains only to spirit — Material causes called self-contradictory. § 599. Objections to this doctrine 
— Would make the conception of body impossible. § 600. It has been inferred that there is but 
one agent in the universe. § 601. The theory which resolves causality into a relation of concepts 
— Resolved into the principle of contradiction — Its relation to the principle of the Sufficient Reason 
— Influence of the Kantian doctrine — Carried to its extreme by Hegel— Objections to his reason- 
ing. § 602. Hamilton's theory of causation — Mansel's version of the same — The relation of both 
to Kant. § 603. Objections ; Elements of existence not indestructible — The impossibility to 
think of change logical, not real — Does not explain psychical causality — Incompatible with 
creation. § 604. Theory of expectation of constancy of nature — Conclusion : Our position 
reaffirmed. 

CHAPTER VI.— Design oe Final Cause 592 

§ 605. Terms explained; Formal, material, efficient, and final causes. § 606. Design and 
adaptation, how related— The relation assumed as necessary and a priori— The kind of knowl- 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. XX? 

;dge which rests upon efficient causation. § 607. Can final cause be similarly applied ?— Such 
an application conceded to be desirable. § 608. Reasons; The mind impelled to connect objects 
by this relation. § 609. The relation is higher than that of efficient causation. § 610. The prin- 
ciple has been of service in scientific discovery— Harvey's discovery of the circulation of the 
blood— Cuvier's application of it in comparative anatomy. § 611. The Foundation of the Induc- 
tive Philosophy. § 612. Required to explain the phenomena of organic existences — Mechanical 
forces and laws do not dispense with it — The vital force does not set it aside — Relations of adapta- 
tion alone sufficient. § 613. Relation of final to efficient causes in the higher orders of being— 
The one does not displace the other. § 614. Objections : (1.) Men mistake in their judgments 
about final causes. § 615. (2.) Our interpretations can neither be tested nor confirmed— Not en- 
tirely unlike iu their operation or phenomena. § 616. (3.) This relation derived from conscious 
experience — The same is true of that of efficient causation — Not unphilosophical to transfer it 
from consciousness — The relation unquestioned in some applications. § 617. (4.) Two principles 
introduced into philosophy which may possibly conflict — Final causes claim the precedence. 
§ 618. (5.) The search after final causes has hindered discovery— Real meaning of Bacon— It is 
fruitful of scientific progress. § 619. (6.) The adaptations of nature are only the conditions of 
existence. § 620. Reply; The truth is a priori, not derived from experience— Experience gives 
us more than the conditions of mere existence. § 621. (7.) Adaptation is limited to organic exist- 
ence. § 622. (8.) We are not warranted in affirming it of all kinds of existence. § 623. (9.) 
Adaptation cannot be affirmed of an unlimited Being. § 624. The principle is illustrated and 
confirmed by its applications. § 625. Is applied in metaphysical science itself— In the formation 
of concepts. § 626. In the systemization of concepts. § 627. In the definition of an individual. 
§ 628. As a criterion of truth and a rule of certitude. § 629. Applied in geometrical construc- 
tion and deduction — In applied geometry — In applied numbers. § 630. Applied in geology, etc. — 
Its importance in geology. % 631. Applied in philosophical geography. § 632. Adapted to com- 
parative anatomy. § 633. Applied to physiology ; In the animal structure generally — In its 
adaptation to the disposition and functions of the animal — In protection against injury and expo- 
sure. § 634. Applied in anthropology — In the provisions for and the capacities of language — Re- 
lations of language to society. § 635. Applied to psychology — Of special importance in this science. 
— Explains the differing periods of development — Explains why the rational faculty is supreme. 
§ 636. Applied and assumed in ethics — The adaptations chiefly psychical. § 637. Application to 
theology — Argument for the Divine existence in its usual form. § 638. Two classes of opinions 
in respect to the Divine existence; the first rejects personality. § 639. The second accepts a 
personal God— Objections— Answers— Intermediate agencies do not disprove personality— Efficient 
causation consistent with intermediate agencies. § 640. The relation of efficient to final cause. 

CHAPTER VII. — Substance and Attribute : Mind and Matter . 619 

§ 641. Substance distinguished from the logical and grammatical subject. % 642. The etymology of 
the terms ; first of substance— Etymology of attribute, quality, etc. § 643. Obscurity and diversity 
of opinion in regard to the relation— Locke's view of substance and attribute— Views of Hume— 
Of Reid— Of Kant— Of Whewell. 

i. Substance in the Abstract. .... . . 622 

§ 644. Substance in the abstract ; how defined. 

ii. Of Attribute in the Abstract. ..... 623 

§ 645. Attribute in the abstract defined — Substance and attribute in the concrete. 

in. Mental or Spiritual Substance. . .... 624 

§ 646. Spiritual or mental substance, misconceived— To know, feel, and will, are causative 
energies— These referred to the ego as cause. § 647. Unconscious psychical powers are causative. 
§ 648. Attributes of design in the soul— Individual attributes of the soul— How far the ego the 
type of all substance. § 649. Human spiritual substance defined— Certain causative attributeo 
are its faculties— Mr. Mill's conception of the soul. 



XXVI TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

iv. Material Substance, . .... 627 

§ 650. Material substance defined— Its trinal extension— Impenetrability — Its several sensible 
qualities — Can matter cause perceptions as distinguished from sensations ? § 651. Matter is 
known to be or to exist. § 652. The so-called properties of matter — These attributes distinguish 
and define, but do not constitute matter. § 653. Space occupation by matter — Permanence of 
space occupation. § 654. Identity of material substance — An individual material substance ; how 
defined? § 655. The production of new substances— Ultimate particles or elements— The real 
essence of Philosophy, or the Thing in itself. § 656. A material substance not necessarily inde- 
pendent — Not indestructible. §657. Our belief in its permanence grounded in design — Dogmas 
that seem to deny permanence. 

v. The Mutual Relations of Material and Spiritual Substance next claim our 
attention. ...... . 634 

§ 658. The reciprocal relations of material and spiritual substance— Mind and matter directly 
known — Reflex knowledge of both; necessary but difficult. § 659. Matter known as being in 
order to be known as cause — Being, spiritual or material, cannot be defined. § 660. Dualism of 
matter and mind overcome by unity of thought. 

vi. The Primary and Secondary Qualities of Matter. .... 637 

§ 661. Twofold and threefold classification — Aristotle's classification — That of Descartes. 
§662. Classification of Locke. § 668. Of Reid. § 664. Of Dugald Stewart. § 665. Of Sir William 
Hamilton— The primary and Secundo-Primary — The Secondary Qualities— The relation of the 
three to the notion of matter. § 666. The Primary and Secondary qualities distinguishable— The 
Secundo-Primary not satisfactorily established — Hamilton's locomotive energy. § 667. Matter as 
being, how related to the Primary qualities. § 668. Two questions still remain — Are the primary 
qualities essential to the notion of matter ? § 669. Do they give a real knowledge ? 

vn. Of the Real as Opposed to the Phenomenal. . . . . . 640 

§ 670. Phenomenal distinguished from the real in the first sense — In the second sense — In the 
last sense nothing directly perceived is real. § 671. Not even what we know by the mind — Kant's 
doctrine of the real and phenomenal— Hamilton's doctrine. § 672. The assumptions of Kant and 
Hamilton criticised. § 673. The same questions arise in common life. § 674. How best resolved. 
§ 675. "We distinguish objects as perceived and as explained. § 676. The relations of the intellect 
cannot be distrusted. 

CHAPTER VIII. — The Finite and Conditioned. — The Infinite and 
Absolute 645 

i. The Finite and Conditioned 645 

§ 677. To know a limiting process— Illustrated by sense-perception— By acts of imagination 
and memory— By the processes of thought. § 678. The finite universe ; how conceived— What it 
is to know the universe. § 679. The finite universe is limited — It is also conditioned. 

n. The Infinite and the Absolute, — their Relations to the Finite and Dependent. 647 
§ 680. The import of the terms must be considered. § 681. The signification of the infinite — Trans- 
ferred from quantity to power— As many senses of the infinite as of the finite. § 682. The uncon- 
ditioned is the non-conditioned. §683. Primary meaning of the conditioned— Applied to quantity 
— The unconditioned means not dependent— Special sense with Hamilton. § 684. The absolute, 
several senses of— The Hegelian sense. § 685. The three used in the concrete and in the ab- 
stract—The sense in question should be exactly known. § 686. The absolute, etc., not negative 
conceptions—Arguments of Hamilton and others— The arguments not valid. § 6S7. Not the 
objects or products of negative thinking— Arguments of Hamilton and Mansel— Their conclusions 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. XXY11 

untenable. § 688. The absolute, etc., not unrelated— Argument of Spinoza, etc.— Keply. § 689. 
The absolute, etc., not the total of being— This view not required — The total of finite being not 
infinite — The absolute not a matter of quantity; the proper absolute. §690. The absolute, etc., 
not devoid of interior relations. § 691. The absolute, etc., are knowable— Views of Kant, Hamil- 
ton, and Mansel — Herbert Spencer dissents from these— Hobbes on the infinite. § 692. The 
absolute cannot be known by the imagination — The proposition qualified— Why of no use to 
image the absolute— The antinomies of Kant and Hamilton. § 693. The absolute, etc., cannot 
be deduced or logically defined. § 694. The absolute the correlate of the finite — Of course, related 
to the universe— Eelations do not involve limitation. § 695. The absolute apprehended by the 
intellect. §696. Not known exhaustively or adequately — The finite universe infinite to our 
knowledge. § 697. Self-existence common to the finite and the infinite. § 698. The absolute a 
thinking agent. § 699. Must be assumed to explain thought and science. 



,^%^r^^ 




IETEODUOTIOK 



PSYCHOLOGY AND THE SOUL 



PSYCHOLOGY DEFINED AND VINDICATED. 

§ 1. Psychology is the science of the human soul. The 
kmS^ennsf d appellation is of comparatively recent use by English writers, 

but has been familiar in its Latin and German equivalents — 
Psychologia and Psychologie — to writers on the Continent, for more than 
two centuries. It is now generally accepted and approved among us as 
the most appropriate term to denote the scientific knowledge of the whole 
soul, as distinguished from a single class of its endowments or functions. 
The terms in frequent use — mental philosophy, the philosophy of the 
mind, intellectual philosophy, etc. — can be properly applied only to the 
power of the soul to know, and should never be used for its capacity to 
feel and to will, or for all its endowments collectively. The terms meta- 
physics and philosophy, when used without an adjunct, cannot designate 
any special science, and therefore are not properly used of the science 
which is concerned with the nature and functions of the human soul. 

The term Psychologia was used by Otto Cassman, in bis Psychologia Anthropologica, etc., 1594; also 
by Budolph Goclenius, in \pvxo\oyla h. e., de Hominis perfectione, anima et imprimis ortu, etc., 1597 ; vide 
Hamilton, Met. Led. VIII. ', Grasse, Biblioth. Psychol. ; Gumposch, Phil. Lit. d. JDeutsch., pp. 56, 57. Other 
reasons are given by Hamilton in the Lecture referred to, for preferring psychology, particularly that it 
admits the adjective psychological. 

The words mind and menial have been used by English writers to denote the soul's capacities to know, 
feel, and will, but with a more or less distinct apprehension of the impropriety, it being generally conceded 
that these terms signify the cognitive or intellectual function. Intellectual philosophy is a term too 
precise to admit any mistake in regard to its import or application. Moral science, moral philosophy, and 
still more frequently the moral sciences, have been used most improperly as including the philosophy oi 
the intellect. In this improper application, the word moral is interchanged with spiritual or psychical. 

§ 2. Psychology is a science. It professes to exhibit 
ence! lologyasci " what is actually known or may be learned concerning the 

soul, in the forms of science — i. e., in the forms of exact 
observation, precise definition, fixed terminology, classified arrangement, 
and rational explanation. This it aims to accomplish. Whether the 



6 INTRODUCTION. § 3. 

materials are sufficiently abundant for this use, or whether they can all be 
successfully reduced to these forms, are inquiries which may be considered 
more properly hereafter. Perhaps they can be still more satisfactorily 
answered by successful achievement. 

It is the science of the soul ; i. e., the science which has the soul for 
its subject-matter. The word soul differs from spirit as the species from 
the genus : soul being limited to a spirit that either is or has been con- 
nected with a body or material organization; while spirit may also be 
applied to a being that has not at present, or is believed never to have 
had such connection. 

Psychology is usually limited to the science of the human soul, in its con- 
Limited to the nection with the human body, i. e., as it manifests powers and is the subject 
human soul. f phenomena in its present conditions of existence. It does not concern 

itself, except incidentally, with inquiries such as these : How or when does 
the soul come into being ? Can or will it exist under other conditions, separate from a body, 
or connected with another body ? What powers may it develop, or what phenomena may it 
exhibit in another state or condition of being ? It simply asks, What does the soul achieve, 
and what does it thereby show itself to be, while connected with a human body ? or, in the 
language of science, What are its phenomena, and what is its essential nature, as manifested 
under the conditions of corporeal and earthly existence ? It does not even occupy itself with 
all these phenomena, but it limits its attention almost exclusively to those higher functions 
which are commonly recognized as distinctively and preeminently human, to the neglect of 
those inferior endowments which man shares with the lower animals. 

The term soul originally signified the principle of life or motion in a material organism. It was pre- 
eminently appropriated to the vital principle or force which animates the animal body, whether in man 
or the lower animals. Traces of this signification may be distinctly discovered in the threefold division of 
man into body, soul, and spirit, in which the soul occupies the place between the corporeal or material 
part, and the spiritual or noetic. This intermediate part was sometimes called the animal soul, and was 
believed to perish with the body. Hence, the term spirit was applied to a nature that had never been fixed 
in a body, or soiled and degraded by connection with it. In the New Testament, i^uxiko?— psychical— is often 
applied to the body in the sense of animal, and opposed to the spiritual or higher body. As applied to the 
affections and character, it signifies those which are lower or fleshly, as distinguished from those which are 
nobler in their nature or origin. Inasmuch as in man the attention would naturally be directed to that 
which gives him dignity, it is not surprising that when the soul was limited to man, and signified Vie human 
soul, it came to designate by eminence those endowments by which man is distinguished from the animals, 
instead of denoting, as previously, those which he has in common with them. We recognize somewhat of 
the earlier and lower meaning in the phrases, " The soul of the universe," " The soul of a plant," " The 
soul of an enterprise or interest ; " i. e., the animating principle of the universe, etc., etc. 

8 3. Psychology is distinguished from physiolosry and an- 
imations to phy- ?. / g f ., - a . . - r ^, * J . ,. 

sioiogy and an- thropology. Both these sciences take man for their subject. 
Physiology studies man as a material organism ; distinguish- 
ing the several organs of which it is composed, the special functions of 
each, and the combined activity of all in a living being. It is true the 
structure and arrangement of some of these organs cannot be explained 
except by a distinct recognition of the necessities of the spiritual agent. 
But although physiology must recognize the higher functions and phenom- 
ena of the soul, it need only consider those which are familiarly known. 
For its purposes, the knowledge, the classifications, and the terminology 



8 4. PSYCHOLOGY DEFINED AND VINDICATED. 7 

of common life are quite sufficient ; as when it explains the structure of 
the eye, the ear, and the hand, by their relation to human vision and hear 
ing, to tactual or mechanical skill. The principal and almost exclusive 
sphere of physiology is the bodily structure and functions, as phenomena 
that can be observed and explained with reference to the animal economy, 
or the laws and conditions of bodily development and life. 

Anthropology, as the term imports, treats of the whole man, as body 
and soul. It differs from psychology in that it treats of these factors when 
combined so as to form one product in many varieties. Of this product it 
gives the natural history. It investigates man as this complex whole, as 
he is varied in temperament, race, sex, and age ; and as he is affected 
by climate, employment, or a more or less perfect civilization. It inquires 
how he is formed and changed in body and in soul by inherited pecu- 
liarities and accidental circumstances. It discusses the influence of the 
soul upon the body and the influence of the body on the soul in the 
normal and abnormal states and functions of each. But it notices and 
records the obvious phenomena of each, only so far as they are open to 
general observation and require no scientific analysis or explanation. To 
psychology it leaves the special and profound study of the one ; to physi- 
ology, the more thorough examination of the functions of the other. 

A more exact division of anthropology separates it into somatology and psychology. 
Somatology signifies the science of the body only, and is subdivided into anatomy and physi- 
ology ; anatomy being the science of its structure, and physiology the science of the functions 
of its organs. Psychology might also be divided into the lower and higher psychology. It 
has been distinguished by earlier and later writers as empirical and rational, the first giving 
the facts, the second the rationale, or the philosophical interpretation of the facts. 

§ 4. Psychology is distinguished still further from physi- 
lmown by con- ology in that the phenomena with which it has to do are 

apprehended by consciousness ; while the phenomena of 
physiology are discerned by the senses. Psychology proceeds on the 
assumption that certain facts or phenomena may be known by the soul 
concerning itself. The power of the soul to know itself and its own 
states is termed consciousness. How the soul gains this knowledge, and 
what are the nature, the varieties, and the aids of consciousness, will be 
considered in the proper place. At present we simply observe, that 
psychology is strikingly distinguished from physiology, in that it derives 
the materials or objects of its knowledge and inquiries from a source 
peculiar to itself. 

That the soul does know itself, and confides in the knowledge thus attained, will be ac- 
knowledged by every one. The facts are peculiar, differing greatly from, or, as we say, being 
totally unlike -those which we gain by hearing, seeing, and touching. They are very numer- 
ous, coming and going faster than we can recall or describe them. They are various in their 
quality, differing from each other in important features, as states of perception from states of 



8 INTRODUCTION. § 5. 

emotion, and yet having this feature in common, that they are known by the soul to which 
they pertain, and known to belong to itself. Seeing differs from hearing. Both are unlike 
remembering and imagining. All these together are unlike hoping, fearing, rejoicing and 
sorrowing. Hoping differs from fearing, and rejoicing is unlike sorrowing. And yet seeing, 
hearing, remembering, imagining, hoping, fearing, rejoicing, and sorrowing are observed by 
the soul that experiences these several states, and are known to be its own. 

8 5. These phenomena, so numerous and peculiar, excite 

Its phenomena ,-,.,,*. ^ , . 

impel to scien- the desire and effort to reduce them to the exactness and 

tific study. _ . . _, 

symmetry of scientific knowledge. That they actually occur, 
cannot be questioned. No one doubts, or cares to deny, that he thinks 
and remembers, that he hopes and fears. They are the most interesting 
of all events to the individual who experiences them. The knowledge and 
the imaginings, the hopes and fears, the joys and sorrows of each person, 
make up the most important part of his being. Even if we lay out of 
view their relation to us as sources of enjoyment and suffering, our internal 
states go very far to decide our success or failure in the business of life. 
What we accomplish in our acts and achievements, depends most of all 
on what we are in our thoughts and aspirations, in our plans and energy. 
The mind, which we know so well, is ever at our hand as the instrument 
with which we execute our purposes and direct our acts. The soul within 
us is the well-spring ever open at our door and springing up at our feet, 
from which we draw our most satisfying joys and our bitterest sorrows. 

Surely phenomena like these are the legitimate object of those scientific 

Are legitimate inquiries to which we are so powerfully impelled. The phenomena which are 

objects of sci- * „ . ■,.!•-,,, 

ence. so near us at all times — which intrude themselves upon our attention even 

when we desire to exclude them, which constitute the world within, to which 

the man himself alone has access, but which is yet, to him, more important than all the world 

without — deserve to be studied, and, if possible, to be scientifically classified and accounted for. 

We naturally ask, How do they occur ? By what powers are they produced, and under what 

conditions ? What laws do they obey ? What is the soul ; is it matter, only of finer texture 

and more delicate organization than in the plant or animal ? If it is not matter, what is the 

mysterious substance or agent which works out these phenomena ? If spirit, it obviously holds 

certain relations to matter ; what are they : what are the material conditions under which it 

perceives, remembers, thinks, and believes? 

Whatever may be the answers which we receive to these inquiries, we are impelled to 
make the inquiries. Should the issue disappoint us, we must still investigate. Should we return 
from our search with the conviction that nothing can be found, though disappointed of the 
object which we sought, we should feel a kind of satisfaction in knowing that nothing can cer- 
tainly be known, if that indeed is true. Should we conclude that the soul is material, and that 
thought and feeling are secreted from the brain, we should still be impelled to seek for and 
find the truth which degrades and disappoints us. 

If, on the other hand, these scientific inquiries lead to the conclusion — as we believe they 
will when rightly conducted — that the soul is not material, but spiritual, and that for its use 
and ends the material universe exists and is arranged ; if the powers of the soul are seen 
by science to have been constructed for its moral perfection, and to point to this as their 
thief and ultimate end ; if the conditions of its existence in a material body conduce to ita 



PSYCHOLOGY DEFINED AND VINDICATED. 9 

discipline to a perfect character, and promote its preparation for a more exalted and noble 
state, these conclusions will be satisfying not merely from the intrinsic value of the results 
themselves, but because they are confirmed by the most searching investigation. Our views 
of these truths are more enlightened when they are illumined by satisfying reasons for holding 
them. They are more comprehensive, because they are gained by a wider view of the fact 1 ' 
and relations which pertain to them. They are therefore held more firmly, more serenely, 
and, if need be, more heroically. 

It is sometimes said, that we ought to acquiesce in the commonly received opinions 
Prejudices —the so-called " teachings of nature "—in respect to these phenomena, and not attempt 
oe^and ^meta- to ^■ e ^ ne them in precise or accurate language, to account for them by discovered laws, 
physics. or to arrange them in a scientific system. It is pertinent to suggest, in reply, that 

" nature" seems to impel us to be dissatisfied with her teachings, and to force us to 
seek more exact and scientific knowledge than these " natural teachings " furnish. The " commonly re- 
ceived opinions " come no more truly by " nature " than do " reading and writing." They are the prod- 
ucts of certain philosophical inquiries in respect to the soul — the bequest perhaps of some forgotten philo- 
sophical school— which have slowly wrought their way into the minds of the community through books 
teachers, and preachers, and have become so generally accepted that they seem to be truisms. 

Depreciating views of psychological and metaphysical studies are frequently urged and more fre 
quently cherished in silence by the devotees of the physical and applied sciences. Such persons have 
been known to carry the practical joke which exposes their own ignorance so far as to limit the terms 
science and the sciences to the study of those objects which we can see and handle; as if the word science. 
might be applied to the knowledge of every other object and activity in the universe, and denied to the 
knowledge of the one agent and the one process by which these sciences are achieved. They will not con- 
descend to apply it to inquiries concerning the instrument of all scientific knowledge, or to those concep- 
tions and relations which underlie all science, without which geometry, mechanics, chemistry, geology, 
syntax and philology, law and government, have no meaning, are capable of no method, and can pro- 
duce no conviction. 

It might easily be shown to the satisfaction of all such decriers of metaphysics, that every one of 
the physical sciences begins with metaphysical conceptions and propositions. "With these, both teachers 
and learners may indeed rarely concern themselves, for fear, perhaps, of being puzzled beyoad the possi- 
bility of self-extrication, and so they either quietly ignore them, or confidingly accept as a teaching ol 
nature, or an axiom of common sense, the caput mortuum of a defunct school of metaphysics. Such persons 
might profitably exercise themselves with a few questions touching their own sciences, before they attach 
the psychologist as a dealer in unprofitable speculations, whose subject-matter is intangible, and the results 
profitless. They might consider questions like these: What is a point? What a line, square, and cube? 
"What is matter? "What is the difference between a material substance and its properties? What is ai 
material cause, power, and law ? What is the nature, foundation, and authority of the inductive process ? 

The jurist might properly be sometimes summoned to his own bar, and required to define more 
exactly — i. e., more metaphysically— the elementary notions, and to justify more carefully the fundamental 
principles of his own science. Or he might with reason be reproved from the bench for the inaccurate and 
slovenly positions which, through defect of metaphysics, he lays down as undisputed maxims of natural 
justice, the deep foundations on which are reared the elaborate and imposing structures of artificial juris* 
prudence and positive law. 

Value of Psy- § 6. It may seem needless to dwell upon the value of psy- 
quires and pro- choloejical studies. They are peculiar in this, that, to what- 

motesself-knowl- & ' 1 * / 1 -.. -,,-,, 

edge. ever power of the soul they are directed, they both require 

and strengthen the habit of self-knowledge. ~No real knowledge of the 
soul can be gained except by turning the gaze inward. Each student 
must do this himself, for no one can do it for another. Books and instruc- 
tors, essays, poetry, and the drama, cannot describe or teach that which is 
not confirmed by the researches of the learner within his own spirit. For 
the man who is disposed to reflect, they can do much, by instructing him 
where and how to look ; but to him who will not converse with himself, 
they can impart no instruction. To such a man they must speak in an 
unknown tongue. They cannot create conceptions in the mind that has 



10 INTRODUCTION. § 8. 

not verified or will not verify them in its own experience. They speak 
only words to him who does not bring the answering thoughts from his 
own reflective self-acquaintance. 

This discipline to reflection, with the habits which it forms, is valuable. 
Trains to self- because it teaches self-control. He that studies his own powers, may learr 
control. jj 0W t direct and use them. He may learn how to fix his attention, how 

to invigorate and refresh his memory, how to order and arrange his thoughts. 
He may discover what are his intellectual defects, and the reasons why he can perform some 
processes with ease, while others cost pains-taking and effort. He may acquire the skill to 
correct his deficiencies and to overcome his bad habits ; to make easy that which was difficult, 
and pleasant that which was disagreeable. 

It also lays the foundation for moral self-improvement. He that would improve his charac- 
ter, must first know what his character is. He must discover what are his better and what his 
worse impulses ; what are the points at which he is most easily assailed, and by what sensibili- 
ties or emotions he can most readily rally his forces and overcome their assailants. With self- 
improvement, self-government is intimately associated. Indeed, the one cannot exist without 
the other. He that would make himself better, must learn to set himself over against himself 
as his own master, repressing the evil, and educing and encouraging the good. But he that 
would rule himself, must first know himself. He must thoroughly understand the subject 
whom he would regulate and control. " Know thyself," was written over the portal at Delphi. 
It was inculcated by Socrates, that preeminent teacher of practical ethics, who, measuring 
every species of knowledge by its tendency to make man better, regarded this maxim as the 
summary of wisdom. A Christian poet has said, in the same spirit, 

" Unless above "himself he can 
Erect himself, how mean a thing is man ! " 

8 7. The self-knowledge which psychology fosters, and to 

Trains to the e . . . „ . . , r . &J ,. ' , . , 

Knowledge of which it insensibly trains, is the one instrumentality by which 
we learn to understand our fellow-men. The sharp and search- 
bg look by which one man sees through another, and reads the secret 
which he is unwilling to confess, is attained only by the fine and subtle 
analysis of one's self. What is perceived, are only external signs; as a 
word, a look, a gesture. To the thought, the wish, the purpose which 
they suggest, there is no direct access. The only thoughts and wishes 
which the interpreter can know directly, are his own ; and it is by a close 
and habitual study of these that he is able to connect them with the signs 
through which those of other men are revealed. 

§ 8. If, also, we would know our fellow-men to do them 
to iducators Sable g°°d> we must ^ rst know ourselves. This suggests the im- 
portant service which psychology may render to teachers of 
every class ; from her who communicates to the infant the first elements 
of its "mother-tongue," to him who toils with his fit though scanty 
audience along the loftiest heights of philosophical thinking. It is the 
office of the teacher to communicate knowledge. But to communicate, 
is more than to acquire, or to possess, or to express in the language that 
satisfies one's self. The teacher should impart — i. e., awaken in the mind 
of another — the thoughts which exist in his own. He must cause his own 



§9. PSYCHOLOGY DEFINED AND VINDICATED. 11 

thoughts to be received by bis pupil. He must make sure that they are 
easily followed and reproduced ; that the order in which they are 
arranged is adapted to the condition and wants of the recipient, and 
that the full force of the reasons by which he argues is responded to 
and felt. 

Hence, skill in the method or art of teaching, as distinguished from the possession of 
knowledge, depends almost entirely upon the power of a man to measure and judge of 
the effect of his instructions. The clear, methodical, and satisfactory communication of knowl 
edge follows from often asking, What truths are most easily and naturally received at first, or 
as the foundation for others ? What illustrations and examples are most pertinent and satis- 
factory ? What degree of repetition and inculcation is required in order to cause the impres- 
sion to remain ? How can individual peculiarities of intellect be successfully addressed, and, 
if need be, corrected ? Such questions can only find answers through the habits and knowl- 
edge which come from intelligent self-study. 

The so-called teacher is not the only person who educates his fellow-men. The 
Variety of edu- editor, the preacher, the public lecturer, the political speaker, the man who gains an- 
cators. other over to his views by conversation, the parent who imparts the knowledge and 

principles, the truth or error which strike the deepest and live the longest, these all 
are in the truest sense teachers. The art or skill which they possess and use, depends to a certain extent 
on qualities of manner, style, or address, but most of all on the knowledge, who the men are with whom 
they have to do, what are the facts or truths which they are prepared to receive, and in what method anct 
order they should be presented so as to be received most advantageously. To this skill no study or training 
so directly contributes as those derived from psychology. Hence, the science of Pedagogic, or instruction 
in the science and art of teaching, has been usually entrusted to the students and devotees of psychology 
and philosophy. Locke's treatise on the Conduct of the Understanding was a natural and almost a neces- 
sary result of his well-known Essay. 

§,9. Education is something more than the communication of 
cuituS." 1 mDml knowledge. It includes the training of the sensibilities, 

which are the springs of action, and the forming and fixing 
of the character. To this the knowledge of the feelings is as requisite as 
the knowledge of the intellect, and it is attained by a similar method. 
Those who influence the character and conduct of their fellow-men by 
public discourse or private conversation, by the persuasion of words or 
the magic power of look or gesture, those who seduce to evil or win 
to good, are, in the appropriate sense of the word, educators, as truly 
and often with greater potency than the teacher in the school or the 
professor from his chair. 

The knowledge of the ways by which men are to be moved and won, 
whether it is transfigured and exalted to the divinest uses, or debased to 
the lowest arts of the demagogue and the seducer, is dependent on the 
single condition of self-observation, and is promoted, stimulated and 
perfected most of all by the habits and training which come from psycho- 
logical investigations. The sharp pettifogger, the mischief-making gossip, 
the artful intriguer, the venal politician, as well as the wise counsellor, the 
inspiring teacher, the divine philosopher, and the eloquent preacher, open 
the fountains of their inspiration to evil or good, first in the study of their 
own souls. 



12 INTRODUCTION. §11. 

. § 10. We name another advantage from psychological study 

the study of lit- — the training which it ensures for the appreciation and 
enjoyment of literature, and the increased facility it imparts 
in writing that which may be worthy to be read. The great masters in 
literature, especially in poetry, fiction, and the drama, have sounded the 
depths of the human soul. They have studied man most attentively in 
the several phases which his being assumes, and as moved by the many 
varieties of human feeling and passion. They may not have learned all 
the technical names which are given to his capacities, or been taught in 
the schools all the theories which have been formed of the essence and 
powers of the soul ; but they have studied its thoughts and feelings to 
the most effectual purpose, and have exhibited the results of -their studies 
in characters of surpassing interest, and by words of wondrous power. 
From their works the student of psychology may find most valuable aid, 
and, to enjoy and appreciate them, there is no study which is so accessory 
as the systematic study of the human soul, with the habits and tastes which 
this study engenders. !No fact is better attested by the history of liter- 
ature, than that those trained by such studies enjoy with especial zest the 
best literary productions, and appreciate them more keenly than any other 
class of men. Other things being equal, they are better qualified than any 
others to criticise them fairly and intelligently. 

It has been questioned whether the reflective and critical tendency thus 

Is not unfavor- fostered is favorable to the power of originating productions of the highest 

able to creative 

power. order. Eminent examples may be cited from the history of letters, of those 

who have been distinguished for these habits, as Milton, Gray, Bacon, Hume, 

Gibbon, Grote, Goethe, Schiller, who have also been distinguished for the power of original 

creation. In many departments of literature, there can be no doubt that the attentive and 

critical study of the soul gives power to originate successfully as well as to judge acutely. 

The arm that measures its strength and steadies its aim by the judging eye, will reach the 

mark with greater precision, and its energy need be none the less. 

§ 11. We ought not to omit the peculiar grace and charm 
morafrefllctiou! which is lent to the character through the influence of that 

moral reflection which is the natural result of self-acquaint- 
ance. To learn to put ourselves in the condition of others, by imagining 
what would be our expectations and what our feelings were we in their 
place, not only disciplines and guides to that common justice which 
the laws enjoin, and to that unselfish morality which the Golden Rule 
prescribes, but it is the secret of that considerate sympathy and refined 
courtesy which invest with a peculiar attractiveness a few superior natures. 
It is by this process that we learn to clothe the severe form of heroic alle- 
giance to duty with the graceful robe of unselfish, sympathetic, and divine 
charity. 

Dr. Thomas Arnold was accustomed to make much of what he called " moral thoughtful- 
Bess," as the trait of character which he desired most of all to perfect in his pupils, and whict 



§12. PSYCHOLOGY DEFINED AND VINDICATED. 13 

ho defined as " the inquiring love of truth going along with the divine love of goodness." 
This " moral thoughtfulness " is fostered by self-acquaintance, when prosecuted with the honest 
purpose of self-improvement. This self-knowledge makes a man to be just to others, because 
he is severe to himself ; to be modest, because he compares himself with others ; to be candid, 
because he views their merits and defects as if they were his own ; to be sympathizing, because 
he feels their joys and sorrows as experienced by himself; to be courteous, because he would 
express by word and act, by look and tone, his acknowledgment of their rights and his sympa- 
thy with their feelings ; to be indignant at wrong, because, in the evil intended for another, he 
feels a blow aimed at himself. 

It leads to a wider sympathy with man than is bounded by the circle of acquaintances, of 
country, or even of those now living. It conducts the thoughts backward along the history of 
the past, and forward among the problems of the future. It makes one sad at the stories of 
human suffering, and buoyant in the contemplation of human excellence in characters conspicu- 
ous for faithfulness and heroism. From this enlarged sympathy arise more hopeful and toler- 
ant views of present evils, a firmer faith in the promises of Providence and the prospects and 
progress of man, a more cautious and candid estimate of the excitements and prejudices which 
attend the partisan conflicts of the passing hour. Superior natures, in all situations in life, 
have ever been reflective natures. When the opportunity has been furnished, they have been 
attracted by psychological studies and fascinated by the mysteries which they attempt to unveil 
and resolve. 

Psychology the § 12 « Psychology either furnishes or reveals the first prin- 
' °whMi ciples for all those sciences which either directly or remotely 



relate to man. re late to man — which concern his being, his aspirations and 
wants, the products of his genius, his institutions, his studies, or his des- 
tiny. It is from psychology that all these sciences derive their definitions, 
and it is in psychology that they find the evidence for their truth. They 
all begin with certain propositions, which they assume to be true. If 
their truth is questioned, the final appeal is made to the science of the 
human soul, as the highest court, beyond which there can be no resort. 

Thus ethics, or the science of human duty, sets off with certain positions 
Its relation • to * n respect to the nature of man, which assert that he is fitted for moral action, 
ethics. an( j that to right or virtuous activity he is impelled by the most sacred obliga- 

tions. It defines conscience and duty, and the several relations of man, and 
from its definitions derives, by logical inference and analysis, the rules and maxims of prac- 
tical ethics. But is man a moral being ? What is it to be capable of moral activity and obli- 
gation? Is he endowed with conscience? What is conscience? These questions are all 
questions of fact, and can be answered only by the psychological study of man. 

Political and social science also assumes that man is a social being, and 

To political and tnafc ne * 3 formed for and must exist in organized society. It defines the 

social science. rights and obligations which grow out of this constitution. But is man 

thus endowed ? and what is he as a social and political being ? Psychology 

alone can answer. 

Law, or the science of justice, lays down as its axioms certain assumptions 
in respect to the authority and limits of government, for the truth of which 
it must appeal to the consciousness of every one who consults his own inner 
life. This science is therefore carried back step by step, till its last footstep 
is firmly fixed in psychology. 



14 INTRODUCTION. §13. 

^Esthetics, or the science of criticism, assumes that man is pleased with 
the beautiful and elevated by the sublime ; and that he can form distinct 
conceptions of what is fitted to attract him in both. From these concep- 
tions he can derive rules by which to try and measure whatever interests 

aim in literature, nature, or art. The canons of taste are in the last analysis resolved by 

facts of psychology. 

Theology is the science of God, of man's relations to God, and of the 

„ U , will of God as made known to man. But this science must assume that man 

To theology. 

is, in his nature, capable of religious emotion ; as also that he believes in 

God, and can in some way understand His character and His will. What man 

believes, and how he comes to believe it, are in great part to be explained by psychology. 

Theology must go to psychology to vindicate its primary conceptions and justify its elementary 

principles. The science of religious faith and feeling must, so far as it is a science, rest on 

psychology. 

From these considerations, psychology is shown to be the common parent of many of the 

sciences. To every one of these sciences the study of psychology furnishes the necessary 

groundwork, and is itself the necessary and appropriate introduction for the thorough under- 

standing and orderly development of their teachings. 

„ . , . 8 13. To logic and metaphysics, psychology stands in a 

Special relation P ,. ° . . r J '. r J & _ 7 , , . , 

to logic and me- peculiar and most intimate relation, to understand which 
special consideration is required. Psychology, in one aspect, 
is, like all the sciences of nature, a science of observation ; and it is sub- 
ject to those rules of investigation and of evidence which are common to 
them all. We study the soul aright when we collect and resolve its 
phenomena according to the inductive method; when we reason from 
premises to conclusion ; when we infer, by analogy with similar phenom- 
ena ; and when we arrange our products in the order and beauty of a 
complete and consistent system. Hence it follows that psychology, 
though necessarily, as we have seen, the parent and director of many 
sciences, is itself in a most important sense subjected to logic as its guide 
and lawgiver. 

But logic is itself subject to another science, viz., meta- 
S e metaph°ysics. ic physics, or speculative philosophy, inasmuch as this is the 
science of those necessary conceptions and fundamental re- 
lations on which the rules and the processes of logic are founded. Such 
are the conceptions of substance and attribute, of cause and effect, of means 
and ends, and the relations of inherence, causation, and design. Unless 
these are assumed, the concept, the judgment, the syllogism, the inductive 
process, the system, can have no meaning and no application. Pyschology 
is therefore subject to logic as its lawgiver, and logic to metaphysics as its 
voucher. 

Psychology sub- But though, in the order of thought and methodical con- 
fere Vogfc 4 a b nd struction, psychology is subject to these sciences, yet, in the 
metaphysics. order of time and of acquisition, psychology is before these 
sciences, which are fundamental to itself and to all the other sciences. 



§ 14. PSYCHOLOGY DEFINED AND VINDICATED. 15 

We must, in a certain sense, go through psychology in order to reach the 
logic by which we study psychology. Logic teaches the laws of right 
thinking. But what is it to think? what are the processes which it 
involves ? We must ask these questions, in order to discover and pre- 
scribe the rules of thinking. We answer them by resorting to the facts 
which consciousness discloses. Metaphysics evolves the original concep- 
tions which appear in all science, and the ultimate relations which are 
assumed in the language and inquiries of all the special philosophies. 
But what are these original conceptions, these prime relations, these 
categories, of which every particular assertion and every actual belief is 
only a special exemplification ? Psychology only can answer, as, by her 
analysis, she shows that man performs processes and achieves results in 
which he necessarily originates and applies these conceptions and rela- 
tions. By studying the mind, we discover the laws by which both mind 
and matter can be studied aright. By studying the mind, we unveil and 
evolve the necessary conceptions and primary beliefs by which the mind 
itself interprets or under which it views the universe of matter and spirit. 
It is, then, through psychology that we reach the very sciences to which 
psychology itself is subject and amenable. Psychology is the starting- 
point from which we proceed. Psychology is also the goal to which we 
must return, if we retrace the path along which science has led us. In syn- 
thesis we begin, in analysis we end, with this mother of all the sciences. 

This special relation of psychology to these fundamental sciences explains 
Why psychology why psychology is itself so often called philosophy and metaphysics, while it 
philosophy. is neither, but simply a science of observation and of fact. It does, however, 

lead to philosophy and to metaphysics, as we have seen by the discoveries 
which it evolves and the habits to which it trains. It is the natural introduction to meta- 
physical or philosophical studies, for its own investigations will conduct the mind step by 
<5tep to those inquiries which will bring into view those conceptions and relations, concern 
ing the authority of which speculative intellects have disputed in all the schools. These con 
ceptions and relations are employed in all the special sciences of nature, or, in the language 
of the ancients, in all physics, whether the rh. <pv<rin<L are material or spiritual. Hence it may 
be that all inquiries concerning them were called metaphysical, as beyond, or preliminary to, 
the physical, and the science was called metaphysics. Hence psychology itself was called 
philosophy, as it conducted to philosophy par eminence, the prima philosophia, which is funda 
mental to all the special and applied sciences. 

§ 14. It is obvious that, if psychology holds these relations to 
method? 11116 to so m ^ a 7 special sciences, the study of it must of itself be a 
most efficient discipline to method and logical power. 

" What is that," says Coleridge, The Friend, Sec. II., Ess. 4, " which first strikes us, and 
strikes us at once in a man of education ? and which, among educated men, so instantly dis- 
tinguishes the man of superior mind, that (as was observed with eminent propriety of the late 
Edmund Burke) we cannot stand under the same archway during a shower of rain, without 
finding him out ? Not the weight or novelty of his remarks ; not any unusual interest of facts 
communicated by him," etc., etc. * * * " It is the unpremeditated and evidently habitual 



16 INTRODUCTION. §16, 

arrangement of his words, grounded on the habit of foreseeing, in each integral part, or (mora 
plainly) in every sentence, the whole that he intends to communicate. However irregular and 
desultory his talk, there is method in the fragments." 

It is impossible for a person to be accustomed to reflect upon his own psychical states, to 
analyze them into their elements ; to trace his practical maxims and his scientific axioms to their 
fundamental principles, or to evolve them from their psychological processes ; it is impossible 
that a man should be thus disciplined without acquiring the power of thinking clearly, 
rationally, and by orderly processes, and without also gaining the power to express his thoughts 
in a lucid and convincing manner. To whatever subject of investigation or business in life 
such a student may apply the discipline thus acquired, he will bring to it a mind capable of 
mastering the subject with satisfaction to himself and to others, and of gaining that supremacy 
which the man who thinks with order will always secure over those who think superficially, or 
who think with lack of method. 

Even if one's profession or pursuit in life does not require him to be familiar with the facts 
of psychology or the principles of philosophy, he will retain the results of his studies in the 
habits of methodical and analytic thinking to which he will have been trained. But no man 
can wholly divest himself of the truths which he must of necessity have gained by such a train- 
ing. The sources from which they have been derived, and from which they must be freshly 
confirmed, are open ever before him. The mine in which he has wrought so long is still open 
for his working, at his feet and by his door. If the habit has been once acquired of looking 
attentively at his inner self, and of there disclosing truths and finding reasons, it will not b>i 
abandoned. The same mine will continue to be wrought, because its products, freshly produced, 
will be constantly required on every occasion when common sense, the knowledge of men, 
practical wisdom or moral convictions, are demanded. The possession of these habits and th«» 
power of evolving such truths command the respect of all men, and invest their possessor witli 
an influence and dignity, to which all men concede the rightful supremacy. 



IL 

THE RELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTER. 

Psychology a § 15 - Psychology is properly a branch of physics, in the en- 
ks a ? ch ii? f P wS larged signification of the term ; or, the science of the soul 
seIIse - is one of the many sciences of nature. Whatever may be 

thought of the substance of the soul, its phenomena are unquestioned facts. 
They are facts which are as real and as potent as the phenomeua of gravi- 
tation or electricity. As such, they assert their place in that vast system of 
beings which we call Nature, or the Universe, and claim to be considered 
by the methods of inquiry which are appropriate to scientific investi- 
gation. 

wh then arc § 16, ^e true philosopher will admit the justice of this 
its facts at* first claim, and will proceed to consider these phenomena in the 

distrusted by the ' x ; . _ 

philosopher? light of scientific methods. But when he begins seriously 
to study them, he finds, perhaps to his surprise, that they are very unlike 
the phenomena to which he has been accustomed. He discovers that the 
subject-matter of investigation, the phenomena, the agents, and the laws, 
are all strikingly and strangely peculiar. The inquirer is surprised, dLs- 



§17. THE EELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTER. 

turbed, and perhaps offended. He is surrounded by unfamiliar objects. 
He is summoned to consider processes to which he is unaccustomed. He 
is required to reflect upon phenomena that are out of his usual range, and 
to assent to principles which he has never before recognized nor applied. 

The first impulse is, to question the reality and trustworthiness of the facts themselves ; 
the next, to doubt whether they can be distinctly conceived and accurately defined. If it be 
conceded that they are actual, and worthy to be investigated, it is at once presumed that they 
may be attributed to some material substance or agent, or explained by material laws, or at 
least illustrated by material analogies. This tendency to resolve the soul into matter, or to 
judge the soul by matter, is very strong ; at times it is almost irresistible, and it has in all 
ages exerted over the most candid and truth-loving minds a powerful and unconscious influ- 
ence. The influence of these prepossessions may be traced in the works of almost every 
writer on psychology ; if not in the conclusions which he reaches, at least in his modes of rea- 
soning, his illustrations, and even in the very language which he necessarily employs, and 
by which he is unconsciously influenced. It has become, therefore, almost a necessity, in an 
Introduction to the study of this science, to consider this influence distinctly, so as to account 
for its existence and to guard against its effects. For the same reason, it is desirable, also, so 
far as we can do this by a preliminary view, to determine distinctly what are the relations of 
the soul and its phenomena to the essence, powers, and laws of matter. 

8 17. We would first account for the existence of this ten- 
Material phe- t-,1 i n t i i • • 
nomcna are the dency. r>y the natural course oi development and training, 

earliest known. _ , . , . . , . n . _■ . 

we are lor a long period exclusively occupied with material 
phenomena and material laws. In one sense it is true that nothing is so 
near to any person as his own inner self, and no events or phenomena are 
so interesting as the experiences of his own soul. Even the material world 
interests us only as through the sensibility of the soul we are alive to joy 
or sorrow, to comfort or deprivation. If there is ' no music in the soul ' 
of the listener, the sweetest notes and the most elaborate harmonies are 
sounded in vain. If the sight awakens no pleasure, and the food provokes 
no taste, they are nothing to us. 

ISTotwith standing this, that to which the mind attends, and with which 
as an object of thought it is most earnestly occupied even in joy or sor- 
row, is the outward and material. What the man sees and hears and 
smells and tastes, attracts and absorbs the attention. Even when he 
begins to reflect, the objects which he compares and distinguishes, which 
he classifies and arranges, are almost exclusively sensible objects. When 
he rises to scientific knowledge, it is to the science of material things. 
The properties and powers with which he first becomes familiar in the 
way of science, are the properties and powers of matter. The laws of 
mechanics, of fluids, of light, of chemical union, of vegetable and ani- 
mal life, are the laws which he first studies, masters, and learns to apply 
and to trust. The objects to which they pertain address the senses. They 
are permanent before the mind. Experiments can be instituted by which 
theories can be tested and hypotheses can be proved. These phenomena 
engage the attention of all mankind, and to discern, describe, and under- 
2 



INTRODUCTION. § 18. 

stand them requires no special reflection and no unusual or abstract lan- 
guage. It is in the order of nature, therefore, that the sciences of matter 
should precede the sciences of the soul. It follows, by a natural and 
almost a necessary consequence, that the conceptions and methods of 
investigation, the facts and laws which are appropriate to material objects, 
should so control the mind's habits and associations, should be so in- 
wrought into its very structure, as to take almost exclusive possession of 
its active energies. 
;'-••.■■'. § 18. When we pass over from the study of matter to the 

Materialistic ° . . x . J 

misgivings and studv of spirit, the prepossessions which we have considered 

Impressions. \ . _; x . . ^ 

remam with us. We are at once confronted with new and 
strange objects. Though the states of the soul have been the nearest to 
our experience and the most familiar to our enjoyment, they have been 
removed the farthest from our observation and study. We ask, Are they 
real ? Are they actual and substantial ? Surely they are not like those 
phenomena which we see and hear, which we handle and taste. But 
allowing that they are actual phenomena, are they distinct and definite ? 
Can we compare and class them ? To w^hat substance do they pertain ? 
The readiest answer is, To some material substance. Hence the soul is 
readily resolved into some form of attenuated matter. Its functions are 
explained by the action of the animal spirits, or by chemical or electrical 
changes in the nervous substance. Perception is explained by impressions 
on the eye and the ear, which impressions are referred to motions in a 
vibrating fluid without, which in turn are responded to by motions aroused 
in a vibrating agent within. Memory and association are explained by the 
mutual attractions or repulsions of ideas similar to those to which the parti- 
cles of matter are subjected by cohesion or electricity. Generalization and 
judgment, induction and reasoning, are resolved by the frequent and often- 
repeated deposits of impressions that have aflinity for one another, and are 
thus transformed into general conceptions and relations. 

From these tendencies and prepossessions have resulted the various schemes of material- 
ism, the grosser and the more refined. By these influences we can account for'the ready 
acceptance of phrenology, with its more or less decided material affinities. To the same wc 
refer the occasional semi-materialistic solutions of psychical phenomena, which occur in many 
treatises and systems which are far from being avowedly materialistic. By them we can easily 
explain those modes of thinking and speaking in respect to the soul in which resort is had to 
some law or principlo of matter to explain a phenomenon which is simply and purely spiritual. 
Even those who on moral or religious grounds believe most firmly in the spiritual and immor- 
tal existence of the soul, often fall, in the scientific conceptions which they form of its essence 
and its actings, into modes of thinking and reasoning which are more or less plainly material. 
Especially arc they easily puzzled by objections which derive their sole plausibility from 
material analogies. These phenomena arc not at all surprising. The mind that is trained by 
the most liberal culture, or that is schooled to the most complete self-control, cannot easily 
divest itself of the prejudices and prepossessions which have been contracted by previous 
studies. Indeed, there is reason for the observation, that the man devoted to a single class of 



L 



§ 20. THE RELATIONS OP THE SOUL TO MATTEK. 19 

6tudies or department of science is liable to stronger and more inveterate prejudices than he 
whose one-sided views have not been strengthened by reflection, tested by experiment, and 
enforced by authority. The man confirmed in his associations by means of a familiar mastery 
over some physical science, is the man of all others to whom, when he considers the phenom 
ena of the soul, the facts seem most novel and the conceptions most unfamiliar. 

§ 19. But it is not enough to be forewarned of these influ 
disproved! 1 Sn ences, in order to be forearmed against them. We need to 
way * be convinced that they are founded in error and misconcep- 

tion ; we should be satisfied that the science of the soul can vindicate its 
peculiar conceptions and laws. In order to this, we need to take a general 
and preliminary view of the relations of the soul to matter. A complete 
and final theory of these relations can only be gained at the termination 
and as the result of our investigations. In order fully and satisfactorily to 
answer the questions, ' Is the soul material ? ' 6 Wherein is spirit with its 
phenomena like, and wherein is it unlike matter ? ' we must first have 
studied each, and the means of knowing each ; i. e., we must have prose- 
cuted a thorough study of philosophy and psychology. There are, how- 
ever, certain considerations which are appropriate to a preliminary ^view. 
These we propose to present — first, those which may fairly be urged by 
and conceded to the materialist, or the materialistic psychologist ; and 
second, the considerations which indicate and prove that the soul has an 
activity that is uncontrolled by material agents, and follows laws that are 
peculiar to itself. We shall give the argument of the materialist in its 
most forcible form, omitting no source of evidence which modern science 
has furnished for his use. To all these facts and proofs he has a just and 
lawful claim, and the presentation of them is required by fidelity to sci- 
ence and to the truth. 
The arguments 8 20. The materialist urges, 1. That we know the soul only 

of the material- ° ° . . ^ . 

ist. The seal is as connected with a material organization. That which is 

connected with a - , . ... n . n ,, . 

body. called the soul, exerts all its activities and manifests all its 

phenomena by means of the human body. Of a soul which acts or mani- 
fests its acts apart from the body, we have no experience, either by per- 
sonal observation or through credible testimony. It must certainly be 
conceded that the only souls to which science can have access for the pur- 
pose of observing their functions or explaining their laws, are those which 
exist and act through a material structure. 

The soul is de- 2 * ^e P owers °f the sou l are developed along with the 
yeioped with the powers and capacities of this organized structure. As these 
powers and capacities are severally called into action and 
reach their full perfection, so do the powers of the soul appear one after 
another, and attain the full measure of the energy which nature has 
assigned them. The lower organs of the body act first in order, and these 
are developed and matured at the earliest period. Afterward the higher 
organs are gradually matured and brought into action. After the body is 



20 IXTKODUCTION. § 2$ 

completely developed for all its functions, it passes through certain stages 
of growth, increasing in size and strength. During these periods of de- 
velopment and growth the soul is also unfolded and matured. One power 
after another is made ready to act, and the capacity for the action of each is 
enlarged and strengthened. If, now, the soul is unfolded as the body is 
developed, and if the soul grows with the growth of the body, then it 
would seem as though what we call the soul is but a name for the capacity 
to perform certain higher functions which belongs to a finely organized 
and fully developed material organism. 

is dependent on 3. The soul is dependent on the body for much of its knowl- 
£owi e%e for and edge and for many of its enjoyments. It is through the eye 
enjoyment. on jy ^at it perceives and enjoys color, and through the ear 

only that it apprehends and is delighted with sound. All the knowledge 
which it gains of the material universe, whether near or remote, whether 
minute or extended, is acquired through the senses alone. It is only 1 as a 
material organ is affected by a material object, that the mind makes a sin- 
gle new acquisition. Should these organs cease to exist, or cease to be 
acted on, all new acquisitions and new enjoyments would cease to be pos- 
sible. Even the so-called higher kinds of knowledge and feeling have a 
nearer or remoter reference to the objects of sense with which we are 
brought in contact through the organs of sense. 

Moreover, so far as we know, the soul begins to act and to enjoy only 
when these organs are aroused by their appropriate material excitants or 
stimuli ; and it would never act or enjoy at all, either in its higher or 
lower forms, if these organs were not first called into action. 
Also for its en- 4 * ^e sou ^ * s dependent on tne body, and on matter, for its 
orgy and activ- energy and activity. It sympathizes most intimately with 
every change in the body. The capacity to fix the attention 
so as to perceive clearly, to remember accurately, and to comprehend fully, 
varies with the condition of the stomach and the action of the heart. A 
slight indisposition is incompatible with the performance of the simplest 
functions of the intellect, and with the exercise of those emotions to which 
the heart is most wonted. An active disease disorders the imagination, fill- 
ing it with offensive and incongruous phantasies, which the soul can neither 
exclude nor regulate. The suffusion of the brain with blood or water, dis- 
qualifies the soul for action of any kind, or stupefies it into entire uncon- 
sciousness. A change in the structure or in the functions of the brain, or 
some lesion of the nervous system, induces that suspension of the higher 
and regulating functions which we call insanity. This state is permanent 
when its cause is permanent ; and the soul may even relapse into a con- 
dition more helpless and pitiable, the condition of idiocy, from which it is 
never known to emerge. That state of the body which we call faintness 
takes away all conscious perception and enjoyment, and causes the soul to 
sink into blank inaction. Another state of the body in sleep induces 



§ 20. THE EELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTEE. 21 

another kind of activity, in which the usual laws of perception, judg- 
ment, and memory, as well as the usual conditions of hope and fear, seem 
to be deranged or reversed. When the organization of the body is de- 
stroyed, the soul ceases to act, and, for aught we can observe, it ceases 
lo exist. 

5. The soul is the termination of a series of material exist* 
series of material ences, which rise above each other in orderly gradation, each 

preparing the way for the other ; and all are represented in 
that form of organized matter which manifests and sustains the highest of 
all, i. e., the phenomena of the soul itself. The lowest form of mattei 
obeys mechanical laws. In this, the particles are held together by cohe- 
sive attraction, and the masses are bound by that force which causes the 
stone to fall, and the planets to move in their rounds, in obedience to a 
mathematical law. The form next higher is seen in bodies endowed with 
chemical properties and capable of chemical combinations. Here masses 
and molecules unlike each other unite in such a way as to form a third 
unlike either — a neutral result, in which the constituting elements do not 
appear. In the form next higher, matter disposes its particles in crystal- 
line arrangement, according to the law of which the elements are not con- 
tent with simple mechanical aggregation, nor with the more mysterious 
affinities of chemical combination, but arrange themselves in constant and 
definite external forms, more or less symmetrical, after the laws of a natu- 
ral geometry. Next we find the lowest types of organized existence, of 
which the crystal is the mute prophecy. In these, from the highest to the 
lowest, there are separate organs, each of which performs a separate and 
special function, necessary to the existence and functional activity of every 
other (ri'gaii and to the whole structure, which is made up of all the organs 
together. The plant, when the requisite conditions are present of noinish- 
ment, moisture, and light, expands into a developed organism, thrusts out 
the bud and leaf, opens the flower by which its beauty is perfected, and 
seed and fruit are formed and matured. The animal requires material con- 
ditions of food and air and light. It comes into being by peculiar pro- 
cesses, it grows into a complicated structure of bone, muscle, viscera, 
nerves, and brain, each separate organ fulfilling its special duty, and all 
acting together so as to form a completed whole. In connection with the 
more perfectly and delicately organized animal structures, the phenomena 
of the soul begin to appear, requiring as their condition all the lower forms 
of nature, the presence and the action of the mechanical, chemical, and 
organic powers and laws. Nay, more. So far as we observe the various 
grades of animal life, just in proportion to the perfection of the material 
structure is the perfection of the soul. The more simple the organization, 
the fewer are the instincts and the more limited is the intelligence. The 
more complex and delicate the structure, the wider is the range and the 
richer the capacities for knowledge, enjoyment, and skill. Again, the 



22 INTRODUCTION. § 21. 

human being, so far as the progress of its own development can be traced, 
seems to pass in succession through the lower up to the higher grades of 
organic life. It seems to take up into itself and represent all the inferior 
types of living beings. It is first, as it were, a plant, having only vegeta- 
tive existence, in the capacity for nourishment and growth ; then it be- 
comes an animal, passing through the lowest to the highest forms of animal 
existence ; last of all, it emerges into that which is still higher, the form 
of activity, which is intelligent, sensitive, self-conscious, and rational. It 
would seem, it is argued, that the soul and the body are one organic 
growth. The one is perfected with the other, the one depends on the 
other, the one results from the other. To this is added the consideration 
already noticed, that organic or nervous force, and psychical or mental 
force, go hand in hand in energy. As is the tension of the one, so are the 
activity and achievements of the other. The one also grows and is devel- 
oped with the other, and with it wastes in decay, rests in sleep, is bewil- 
dered in dreams, rages in insanity, drivels in idiocy, is extinguished in 
death. 

From all this it is concluded that the soul is nothing without 
Sfmltlriaiist^ tn e body, the two being different names for different func- 
tions of a common substance, and the soul a convenient term 
for the higher forms of activity which matter exerts in its finer and more 
ideal forms. Or, in other words, the soul, in its essence and its acts, is 
dependent on organization ; and when the organism is disintegrated, the 
activity of the soul must terminate. Its existence separately from organ- 
ized matter, or transferred to another and a new organism, involves an 
absurd and impossible conception. 

Such is a brief sketch of the argument for the material structure of 
the human soul, as it might be urged at the present day by one familiar 
with modern science. The considerations are very general, but they 
embrace the most important parts or points of proof which it is suitable 
to consider at the introduction of our studies in psychology. 
Counter argu- 8 21. The considerations which may be urged in proof that 

ments. Itsphe- ° . .' , -i 7» ti • 

nomena unlike the substance of the soul is not material, are the following : 

material phe- ■ , , . ._ ■-._• ' . 

nomena. 1. The phenomena of the soul are m Kind unlike the phe- 

nomena which pertain to matter. All material phenomena have one com- 
mon characteristic — that they are discerned by the senses. They can be 
seen, felt, touched, tasted, and can also be weighed and measured. Cer- 
tain phenomena of the soul, at least, are known by consciousness, and, as 
thus known, are directly discerned to be totally unlike all those events and 
occurrences which the senses apprehend. The phenomena discerned by 
the senses are known to have some relation to space that can be more or 
less clearly defined. Motion, color, taste, sound, combustion, breathing, 
circulation, secretion, galvanic agency, chemical combination, growth, de- 
composition — every kind aud form of material activity — require extension 



§21. THE RELATIONS OP THE SOUL TO MATTER. 23 

in the substance on which they operate, or in the effect or activity itseli 
But feeling, will, thought, memory, joy, sorrow, purpose, resolve, admit 
of no such relation to space. They are known *to exclude such relation. 
Besides, each and all these material phenomena or properties are referred 
to some agent or substance which is also apprehended by the senses to be 
extended and endowed with other material qualities. Even those agents 
in nature which are most imponderable and impalpable, as the electric 
force or fluid and the vital or organine force in the animal or plant, both 
require a certain portion of matter as the active or potent substance, which 
must be electrified or made living in order to exhibit electrical or vita] 
activity. This single characteristic of material agents is positively known 
and universally assented to. On the other hand, the phenomena of the 
soul are by consciousness not only not necessarily referred to any such 
portion of matter, but they are referred to another agent, the acting or 
suffering ego, which is not known by consciousness to have any sensible or 
material attributes, or rather, which is known to have no such properties. 
All these peculiarities clearly and sharply distinguish the two classes or 
species of phenomena. We positively know that all other phenomena 
have a definite relation to matter. Psychical phenomena have a definite 
relation to an agent which is not known to have a single material attri- 
bute ; which, even when it controls matter, is known by consciousness to 
be totally unlike any known material agent. 

2. The acting eqo is not only not known to be in any way 

The soul dis- .,,.,.. . , . . J 

tinguishes itself material, but it distinguishes its own actings, states, and 

from matter. _ _ . ° „ . . • , , • , 

products, and even itself, from the material substance with 
which it is most intimately connected, from the very organized body on 
whose organization all its functions, and the very function of knowing or 
distinguishing, are said to depend. First, it distinguishes from this body 
all other material things and objects, asserting that the one are not the 
other. Second, it just as clearly, though not in the same way or on the 
same grounds, distinguishes itself and its states from the material objects 
which it discerns. It knows that the agent which sees and hears is not 
the matter which is seen and heard. Third, the soul also distinguishes 
itself and its inner states from the organized matter — i. e., its own bodily 
organs — by means of which it perceives and is affected by other matter. 
Fourth, it resists the force and actings of its own body, and, in so doing, 
distinguishes itself as the agent most emphatically from that which it 
resists. By its own activity it struggles against and opposes the coming 
on of sleep, of faintness, and of death. Even in those conscious acts in 
which it feels itself most at the disposal and control of the body, it recog- 
nizes its separate existence and independent energy. 

3. The soul is self-active. Matter of itself is inert. The 
SLe 0Ul M self sou l * s impelled to action from within by its own energy. 

Matter only takes a new position, or passes into a new state, 



24 INTRODUCTION. §21, 

as it is acted upon by a force from without. We grant that the soul must 
begin its activities at the awakening of the senses ; but when it is once 
awakened, it never sleeps, so far as we can observe or infer. If the senses 
should furnish it no new objects, it would go on without intermitting its 
action, busying itself with the materials already furnished under laws of 
its own. We grant also that to what it perceives and desires and does, it 
is determined, to a very great extent, by the objects which present them- 
selves from without ; but these direct the course of its action as they fur- 
nish objects ; they do not cause it to act. We concede even that its energy 
in action is dependent on material conditions. The tension and healthful 
harmony of the nervous system enables the soul to act with augmented 
force. When the nerves are relaxed or disturbed, as in faintness or dis- 
ease, the force of the soul is greatly weakened or frightfully disordered ; 
but there is no proof that any bodily conditions can arrest the activity 
that is impelled from within, or that it is originated by any such condi- 
tions. In this respect the contrast is striking between matter and spirit, 
is not de end- ^' ^° vei T man y of the states of the soul no changes or 
ent on matter m affections of the organism can be observed or traced, as their 

its highest activ- # to m ' 

ities - condition or prerequisite. It is argued that the soul and 

body are one material organism, because we know that in many instances 
some affection of the one is necessary as the condition of a correspondent 
affection of the other. The soul cannot see unless the retina is painted by 
the light, nor can it hear unless the ear vibrates through sound. Hence it 
is inferred that the one is the effect of the other ; and if the soul is acted 
on by material or organic causes, it must be material in its substance or 
structure. It ought greatly to weaken the force of this argument, to 
observe that the change in the soul is in its nature wholly unlike the con- 
ditions which go before it. The impression on the eye or the ear has no 
affinity with or likeness to the perception which follows. Moreover, the 
condition in the organism often is a condition simply and solely as it fur- 
nishes an object which the soul apprehends, and determines nothing in the 
result, except so far as it gives the soul an occasion to know one thing or 
object rather than another ; i, e., the eye sees rather than hears, and sees 
this object rather than another, because the excited organism furnishes the 
occasion. But the conclusiveness of the argument is entirely broken, when 
we reflect that no changes in the organism whatever are known to precede 
or to condition the most numerous and the most important psychical states 
and affections. We grant that the landscape which we see must first be 
pictured on the retina. But what change or affection of the material 
organism occurs, when the soul, at the sight of this landscape, images 
another like it, calls up by memory a similar scene, which was seen years 
before a thousand miles distant, or, by creative acts of its own, constructs 
picture after picture that are more beautiful and varied than the one it is 
beholding? Or what bodily changes precede desire and disgust, hopo 



§ 21. THE RELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTER. 25 

and fear, at these memories and creations ? No such changes have evei 
been discerned. No ground is furnished for surmising that tbey ever 
occur. They must occur in every instance, to justify the theory of the 
materialist. That they do occur, is simply assumed. They have never 
been observed. 

The argument of the materialist stands thus : Certain psychical states or processes re 
quire as their condition certain organic bodily affections. These bodily affections, however, 
are totally unlike the mental states which they conditionate. In every case in which they do 
occur, they present new objects of apprehension and feeling. By these, and by these only, 
the soul receives its knowledge of the material world. Certain other mental states, far more 
numerous and far more important, are attended by no affections of the body whatever. 
Which, then, is more philosophical, to assume that such organic changes do occur when we 
cannot trace their presence, nor any appearance of an organ in which they might be traced, 
or to which they might be referred, because, forsooth, they do occur when we can trace 
them, and can give the reason for their occurrence ; and then, with the aid of this unauthor- 
ized assumption, to infer that the soul and body are one organism ; — or to disbelieve that such 
bodily changes do occur as the conditions of mental activity, when. we have no evidence from 
observation and no presumption from analogy ? 

Gradations of 5. The regular gradation in the arrangement of the several 
prove 11 It d to n be kinds of material existences, and the progressive develop- 
matenai. ment from the lower to the higher forms of organized mat- 

ter, do not of themselves prove that the soul is matter in a more highly 
organized form. Nor does the fact that the transition from the highest 
forms of organized matter to the lowest types Of psychical activity can- 
not be readily discriminated ; nor that the body, which is organized for 
the uses of the soul, seems in its development to assume in successive 
order all the lower types of organization, force us to believe that a com- 
mon substance, obeying material laws, is capable of rising into that refine- 
ment of organization which can perform the functions of knowledge and 
affection. 

These facts can only be regarded as proof by the man who assumes 
that the existence of immaterial or spiritual being is impossible, and the 
belief of it is unphilosophical. This assumption involves the inference 
that there is no spiritual Creator, on whom matter depends for its exist- 
ence, properties, and laws. If there be a creating Spirit, who originated 
and controls matter, then it is not unphilosophical to believe that there 
may be a created spirit, which is intimately connected with and affected 
by a material organism, or which, perhaps, is itself the organizing agent. 

To those who assume that there can be no extra-mundane or creating 
Spirit, it is useless to attempt to prove that there may be an incorporeal, 
created spirit. 

To those who admit that there is or may be a creating Spirit, or even 
to those who believe that design has a place in the universe, the regu- 
larity of development and progressive transition from one being to 
another will indicate a. unity of plan in the creation more clearly and 



26 INTRODUCTION. § 23. 

more satisfactorily than they will prove a unity of material substance in 
the agent — a unity of purpose and intention in the order and beauty of 
these arrangements, rather than a unity of nature and destiny in the lowef 
and higher kinds of beings. 

It may be impossible for us to draw the line where material organization ends and spiritual 
agency begins, where unconscious reaction ceases and conscious activity emerges. It may bo 
impossible for us to discover the properties and relations of organized matter which fit it to 
be the instrument or the medium of the soul, or what there is in the soul that fits it to be 
developed with and to employ this organized substance. But we do know enough about 
spirit and matter to affirm that if spiritual existence is possible, and if it be necessary from 
its constitution or important to its destiny that it be developed with or organize matter, then 
all those phenomena by which it seems to rise by a natural evolution from the higher forms 
of matter, and to crown the series which it terminates, as " the bright consummate flower," 
are fully explained by the unity, the beauty, and the harmony of the Creator's plan, and do 
not require to be resolved by a unity in the substance which they manifest. 

This is all that we need determine at the present stage of our 
inquiries. "What is the substance and what the destiny of the soul, can 
be fully defined and vindicated by the philosophy and theology to which 
psychology is the appropriate introduction. 

§ 22. It is important to remember, however, whatever views 
o?tixe ? soS ) SaL a we accept of the nature of the soul, that its phenomena are 

as real as any other, and that their peculiarities are entitled 
to a distinct recognition by the true philosopher. Whatever psychical 
properties or laws can be established on appropriate evidence, they all 
deserve to be accepted as among the real agencies and laws of the 
actual universe. Perception, memory, and reasoning are processes that 
are as real as are gravitation and electrical action. In one aspect their 
reality is more worthy of confidence and respect, as it is by means of per- 
ception and reasoning that we know gravitation and electricity. Their 
peculiar conditions, elements, and laws, so far as they can be ascertained 
and resolved, are to be judged by their appropriate evidence, and to be 
accepted on proper testimony. The evidence and testimony which is 
pertinent to them, may be as pertinent and convincing, though different 
in its kind, as that which can be furnished for the facts of sense or the 
laws of matter. If the soul knows itself, its acts, and products, by a 
special activity, then what it knows ought to be confided in, as truly as 
what it knows of matter by a different process. 

phenomena of § 2 ^. ^ ne ana l°gy °f tne physical sciences establishes this 
be C ^m cT"^ principle, an( l enforces it as a universal rule. Facts of one 
those of another. sor £ are no t to be distrusted because they differ in kind or 
quality from those of another class. Truths of one kind are not to be 
measured by truths of another. Phenomena of one description are not 
to be solved by laws that hold good of other phenomena. Chemical facts 
and laws are not disputed because they cannot be explained by mechanical 



§ 24. THE RELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTER. 27 

properties and powers. The functions by which the plant is nourished 
and grows are not to be doubted because they cannot be explained hy 
the laws which regulate the rise of water in a pump, or those which unite 
an acid or an oil with an alkali, into a salt or a soap. Nor are the circu- 
lation of the blood, or the digestion of the food, to be questioned, or 
violently explained by laws which do not solve thern, because they ex- 
hibit special and novel agencies, and must be interpreted by peculiar 
methods. We are indeed prompted — we are even compelled — to reduce all 
our knowledge to unity, and we therefore seek to explain two events and 
two classes of phenomena, if it is possible, by a single agency and after 
a single law. We must prefer the well-known and the familiar to the 
unknown and the untried ; but if we do not succeed, we may not for this 
reason doubt the facts or pervert and misconstrue the laws. If, now, there 
are phenomena concerning man which are discerned by consciousness alone 
— if also their truth can be established only through consciousness — then 
they are to be received as real, whether they are or are not like the phe- 
nomena of matter, or whether they can or cannot be explained by the laws 
or analogies which material phenomena illustrate and exemplify. To deny 
them, is unphilosophical. To attempt to explain them by any resort to 
physical analogies which fail to solve them, and which destroy their 
integrity or essentially alter their character, is to be more unphilosophical 
.still. If either class of phenomena should take precedence of and give 
law to the other, the spiritual are before the material, for the reasons 
which have been already given. 
The phenom- § 24. We ought also to distinguish between the powers and 

ena, and Ian- ° . « . . 

guage in which laws which consciousness discovers, and the medium by 

they are de- ... . 

scribed. which these discoveries are recorded and made known. This 

medium is language, in the large acceptation of the term — the language 
of signs, of looks, and of words. The most superficial inspection of the 
words which describe the thoughts and feelings, reveals the fact conclu- 
sively that they "were all originally appropriated to material objects and to 
physical phenomena. The words perceive, understand, imagine, disgust, 
disturb, adhere, and a multitude besides, were all originally applied to 
some material act or event. It is only by a secondary or transferred sig- 
nification that they stand for the states or acts of the soul. 

" It may lead us a little toward the original of all our notions and knowledge, if we remark how great 
a dependence our words have on common, sensible ideas ; and how those which are made use of to stand 
for actions and notions quite removed from sense, have their rise from thence, and from obvious sensible 
ideas are transferred to more abstruse significations, and made to stand for ideas that come not under the 
cognizance of our senses ; e. g., to imagine, apprehend, comprehend, adhere, conceive, instil, disgust, dis- 
turbance, tranquillity, etc., are all words taken from the operations of sensible things, and applied to cer- 
tain modes of thinking. Spirit, in its primary signification, is breath ; angel, a messenger ; and I doubt 
not but if we could trace to their sources, we should find in all languages the names which stand for things 
that fall not under our senses to have had their first rise from sensible ideas." — Locke, Essay, 33. iii., c.l, § 5. 

A more profound inquiry into the history and etymology of particular languages show3 
beyond question that the radicals and many primitive words were first applied to sensible objecta 



28 INTEODUCTION, §25. 

A careful study into the grounds of this fact, universally observed, will show that it could not 
be otherwise. How could one mind first communicate with another, except by some sensible 
sign common to both ? To such a sign the speaker must direct the eye of the hearer, after 
*vhich it could stand before both as the common representative or symbol of the thoughts of 
the two. It is not easy in all cases to decide what determined the selection of this or that 
physical image to represent a particular act or state. Even when the same image is used in 
dialects and languages that are remote, it is sometimes difficult to ascertain what affinity it has 
for the spiritual object. But the facts are unquestioned. In many cases the physical image is 
forgotten, and has passed out of view. But in many others it is more or less forcibly sug- 
gested whenever the word is used, and it often so obtrudes itself as to mislead and confuse the 
conceptions and reasonings which are applied to spiritual objects. — Cf. K. F. Becker, Das Wort 
in seiner organischen-Verwandlung. — §§ Y7-S0. 

8 25. The physical analogon which led to the selection of 

Misleading in- ° L J ° 

fineace of lan- the word often lurks behind its psychical import, and is 
ready suddenly to spring out before the eyes, and not unfre- 
quently to suggest erroneous and mischievous conclusions. Let the word 
impression be used, as it naturally is, for some affection of the intellect or 
the emotions, and it is not unlikely that it should be conceived and rea- 
soned of as involving some pressure or impulse. A mental image is taken 
to be a literal drawing or picture that is painted on the ' presence-chamber ' 
of the soul, or can be restored or re-illuminated by the memory. The 
objects of the external world are said to be out of the mind, while the 
image or remembrance is said to be in it ; as though the soul filled a por- 
tion of space, and disposed its thoughts within its walls or limits. The mem- 
ory is conceived as a storehouse of facts, dates, or principles, all ready to 
be taken down or drawn out when required. Consciousness is thought 
and reasoned of as though it were an inner light, which illumines by its 
radiance the dark and winding recesses of the world within. Conscience 
is the voice of God, speaking with the distinctness and authority of audible 
speech. 

"When we reflect on the import of such terms in their application to the soul, we readily 
assent to the proposition that they are metaphors, either fresh or faded. But we do not always 
observe, nor do we always guard against the insidious influence of the image from which the 
metaphor was taken. When we are occupied with the thought, and not with the word — when 
we are reasoning earnestly, or seeking a solution which evades us, the material image will sup- 
ply a suggestion which is more plausible than valid, and it will lead us to a conclusion which 
is both foolish and false. In such cases we reason and infer, not from what we know, but from 
what we say ; and the very language which we use to define and steady our thinking, confuses 
and distracts it. Inasmuch as all the language which we use is material in its origin and struc- 
ture, it will incidentally favor all those views of the soul which are materialistic, either as pro- 
fessed theories or insensible associations. The superficial thinker will press the physical senses 
of the words which he uses into the service of his theories ; the careless thinker will be 
imposed upon by the physical associations which the words suggest. When difficulties or even 
contradictions are suggested by the physical sense of the language employed, they will einbar- 
i aga and disconcert the thinker who docs not reflect that they spring from the representation 
of the phenomena by language, and not from the phenomena themselves. Thus, it may be 
urged. How can the soul act at a point where it is not present ? How can it feci, if an impres- 



§25. THE RELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTER. 29 

sion is not carried to its portal ? How can it originate, without itself being moved ? How 
can it be conscious of its states, without having first experienced the state of which it is con. 
scious ? The physiologist, in attempting to explain the phenomena of sensible perception, aa 
he passes the mysterious line which divides the affection of the organ from the action of the 
mind, is tempted to carry with him material conceptions, by the very force of the language 
which he utters, and to find an argument for the truth of these conceptions in the very Ian 
guage which he is forced to employ. Indeed, the history of psychology is a perpetual testi 
mony to the truth, that materialistic conceptions and theories find their readiest justification in 
the terms which the most thorough Spiritualist is forced to employ, and that a quasi-material- 
ism seems to spring out of the very language by which it is confuted. Hence it becomes so 
important that the conceptions which we form should be sharply distinguished from the Ian 
guage in which they are uttered ; and that the student of psychology should place himself 
ever on his guard against the influence of the images and associations which are continually 
put into his mouth by the language which the necessities of his being force him to use ; which 
language, however high it may soar into the spiritual, can never free itself from the matter in 
which all its terms have their origin. 



THE RELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO LIFE AND LIVING BEINGS. 

The considerations already presented are sufficient to prove that the soul is no* 
Reasons for material in its structure. But its relations to organized or living matter require a 
discussing the more careful analysis, if we would do justice to all the questionings of modern physi- 
subjeot further. ology, and conduct our inquiries in a thoroughly scientific spirit. In order to de- 
termine these more subtle relations of the soul to life and living beings, we need first 
to ask " What is life, or what is a living being? " and next "What are the relations of the soul to life ?" 
These questions have been often asked, and variously answered. Recent investigations and discussions 
have invested them with special interest and importance. 

1. Life, and Living Beings. 

Terms defin- Material things or beings are readily and universally divided into the two classes 
ed and question of organized and unorganized, and the matter of which each is composed is distin- 
stated. guished as organic and inorganic. In unorganized beings, the material constituents 

are combined according to the ordinary laws of mechanical and chemical union into 
homogeneous substances. Organized beings, on the other hand, are heterogeneous, i. e., they are mado 
up of parts which are unlike in structure, form, and function. Even of organized beings the lowest forms 
are divided into parts called organs, to each of which is assigned some function or operation which is 
shared by no other, and which is essential to the existence of the whole, and to the action of each of the 
parts. A being so constituted is an organized being, or an organism, and its matter is called organic. 
An organized being, when in such a condition as to be capable of performing its functions under its 
appropriate conditions or stimuli, is a living being. The condition itself is called life. 

So far all parties agree in their definitions and theories. But as soon as the question is raised, on 
what does this peculiar condition depend, or what produces and sustains that form of existence and 
action which is organic and living, we find that philosophers in ancient and modern times differ greatly 
in the answers which they give. 

Among the ancient philosophers the atomists explained life by the fortuitous mix- 
Opinions of ture of atoms, acting by the mechanical laws which were by them rudely conceived 
the ancient phi- and defined. Avery large number, however, accounted for these phenomena by a 
losophers. separate agent, called the soul, which, alike in plants and animals, was thought to be 

the cause of the organic structure, and its organic functions. In the higher forms ot 
being, as in man, this soul or vital principle was supposed to attain to certain emotional and intellectual 
functions. As the capacity for the highest functions, it received another appellation, and in the opinion 
of Aristotle, as he is generally interpreted, this higher nature, the Now?, was in some way added; to the 
lower forces, and qualified to maintain a separate existence, after the destruction of the body. 

Plato taught positively, though in mythical language, that the soul is pre-existent to the body, and 
Immortal in its duration ; that it is ethereal in its essence, opposite in every respect to the matter to 
which it is reluctantly subjected, and which soils its purity, obscures its intelligence, and weakens 
ite energy. 



30 INTKODUCTION. § 25. 

The distinction of body, soul, and spirit, o-wju.a, ^ivxn, irvevixa, is sanctioned by the writers o'f. '.he Old 
and New Testaments, and was adopted by the early Greek fathers as being psychologically exact and of 
great scientific and theological importance. A few writers made the 7rvei)jtAa of the New Testament 
coincident with the Platonic and Aristotelian Nous, and the tyvxv equal to the vital and phantastic soul, 
or the latter only— reserving the <rajua for vitalized matter, or else making the irveviia to be the 
vitalizing principle. 

In modem philosophy, in consequence of Platonic and Christian ideas, and under 
the influence of the philosophy of Descartes, the soul has been more sharply con- 
i> deWs* 1 * 5 trasted with matter and extension in all its forms. As a natural result, the soul, as 

the principle and agent of the higher functions, was separated from the agent of living, 
organized matter, or the principle of life. Under the influence of the new philosophy, 
—the mechanical philosophy of Descartes and of Newton,— the question, what is the living principle, as- 
sumed a new interest. "With the progress of modern anatomy and physiology, the mechanical structure 
of the skeleton came to be more perfectly understood, and the adaptation of the form and adjustments 
of every one of its parts to the communication of force and the direction of motion, familiarized and 
deepened the conviction that the human frame in its structure and activities, may be explained by 
mechanical relations and laws. 

The discovery of the circulation of the blood by the contraction and dilatation of the heart, and the 
connection of these movements with the expansion and contraction of the lungs, called the attention of 
physiologists more distinctly to the presence of mechanical agencies in functions where their presence 
had not been suspected. The somewhat recent discoveries of modern chemistry, that many of the most 
important vital functions, as respiration, assimilation, and excretion, are attended by, or result in the 
composition and decomposition of chemical elements, according to chemical laws, have led many to 
contend that the existence of the organs themselves, and the combination of them into an organism, 
are to be ascribed almost entirely to chemical agencies, and that life itself is but an abstract term for 
the conspiring activity of manifold subtle mechanical and chemical forces. Whatever is peculiar in the 
origination, structure, and functions of living beings, it is believed by many, can be accounted for by the 
operation of the mechanical and chemical properties of matter in obedience to their well-known laws, 
acting under special conditions. 

This theory is rejected as unsatisfactory by very many eminent physiologists and physiological 
chemists. They contend with equal earnestness that the phenomena peculiar to living beings cannot 
be explained without the supposition of some additional property or agent, which is essential to their 
formation and preservation, as well as to the performance of many of their peculiar functions. 

This agent, cause or force, has received various appellations. Blumenbach calls it 
Various appel- tne nisusformativus or Biidungs-trieb ; John Hunter the vital principle ; "William Prout, 
lations for vital the organic agent, the distinguished John Miiller, the organic force. It is more usually 
f 01 ' CG - called the vital force. Schmid of Dorpat terms it somewhat carefully the transmuting 

cell power, and Bischoff, of Munich, defines it as " the peculiar and individual cause or 
force which creates and shapes the whole body, and manifests psychical qualities by means of the brain," 
thus blending the vital and psychical force in one. 

In support of the opinion that there is such an agent or force, the following reasons are urged : 

1. Every living being originates from a being that is already organized or living. 
Life originates ~^° we ^ authenticated account has been given of the production of the lowest form of 
only from a life in any other way. No experiment has ever been successful which had for its 
living being. object the origination of a living being from elements that were not already living. 

Even those substances or things of which we can hardly say whether they are or are 
not living, are produced from an existence like themselves, or from some seed, cell, spore, or organized 
portion of matter that has the same kind or degree of life. Without going back to the first beginning of 
things, or raising any questions about subsequent acts of creation, we find the fact unquestioned, that 
the existing world of nature is divided into organized and unorganized matter", and that, while the 
organized depends on the unorganized for the conditions of its existence, and whon these conditions fail 
is resolved into it again, it has yet never been known to originate from this alone. This fact or law 
widely extended and universally prevalent, indicates, if it does not prove, that living beings depend upon 
a force and obey laws which to some extent are peculiar to themselves. 

Huxley concedes this fairly and distinctly—" I need not tell you, »' he says (Origin of Species, III.) 
" that chemistry is an enormous distance from tho goal I indicate. * * * It may be that it is im- 
possible for us to produce tho conditions requisite to life ; but we must speak modestly about the matter, 
and recollect that science has put her foot upon tho bottom round of the ladder. Truly he would be a 
bold map who would venture to predict where she will be fifty years hence." 

If life were but another name for a peculiar combination and activity of mechanical and chemical 
forces, we might prcsumo that somewhere and at some time, those had been, or might be combined bo 
as to produce living beings or the germs of the same, and that in the lowest or more elementary forms of 
life there would be some suggestion or semblanco of such origination. But neither observation, experi- 
ment nor history give record, or hint of such an occurrence. The belief in its possibility is a matter of 



g 25. THE RELATIONS OE THE SOUL TO MATTES. 31 

pure inference. ' The doctrine of the evolution of the organic from the inorganic, as held by Darwin and 
Herbert Spencer, is founded on a special metaphysical theory, resting on analogies violently strained 
from observed facts, but not confirmed by a single observed event, or experimentum cruris. The only 
evolutions and developments actually observed, lie respectively within the spheres of the organic and tha 
inorganic. The one sphere has never been evolved or developed from the other. 

In view of these facts, and even the analogies which they suggest, there is little force in Spencer's 
confident assertion, founded on mere metaphysical romancing. Though he applies his remark to the 
evolution of one organism from another, yet he would extend it to the evolution of the organic from the 
inorganic. " If instead of the successive minutes of a child's foetal life "we take successive generations of 
creatures — if we regard the successive generations as differing from each other no more than the foetus 
did in successive minutes, our imaginations must indeed be feeble if we fail to realize in thought the 
evolution of the most complex organism out of the simplest. If a single cell, under appropriate condi- 
tions, becomes a man in the space of a few years, there can surely be no difficulty in understanding how, 
under appropriate. conditions, a cell may in the course of untold millions of years, give origin to the 
human race."— Principles of Biology, § 118. 

2. The process of nutrition or growth is peculiar in respect of its material and the 
The process of ™-ethod of assimilation, neither of which can be explained by mechanical or chem- 
nutrition and ical forces or laws. 

growth peculiar. rp-^g ij_ v j n g. 'being i s composed of material constituents, it has chemical and mechan- 

ical properties, and to a certain extent obeys the laws which these properties involve. 
As it adds to its substance by nutrition, and increases its size by growth, its aliment possesses material 
properties and obeys material laws. But while the aliment, the process and the product, all show these 
properties and comply with these laws, neither these actions nor their results exclude the cooperation of 
another force. Nor, again, does the belief in such a force require us to believe that it produces effects 
not evident to the senses, or that it manifests its presence and power in any way except by controlling 
and modifying the action of the lower forces. 

That these forces are so controlled in nutrition and growth, is evident from the general fact that 
nutrition and growth can only be expected from an aliment which has been already modified by the 
action of some living being. The fact is now well established, that the food of every species of animal- 
life, the lowest as well as the highest, must directly or indirectly be prepared for assimilation in the 
vegetable kingdom. The chemical materials which enter so largely into its substance cannot be appro- 
priated in their inorganic condition from the earth,' the air, and water in which they abound. The begin- 
ning of all nutrition is in vegetable life, and the beginning of vegetable life is in the vegetable cell. But 
this, it would seem, must directly assimilate its chemical constituents, so that in the last resort, it might 
be urged, we find the organic feeding on the inorganic. On inspection of the cell, however, we find that 
it begins to exist with its food already prepared. The living being — the cell — not only owes its existence 
to another living being, but it derives from such a being the food by which it is to be nourished, which 
food is in a certain sense living. So soon as it exists as an organism, it exists with its, so to speak, or- 
ganized aliment— an aliment affected by the action of a force peculiar to the organism. Its growth 
depends upon the preparation of its food as well as upon the process of assimilating it to its substance. 
The food of both animal and vegetable, though chemical in its constitution, is also organic or partially 
organized. 

Without insisting on any thing that is in dispute, or is yet undetermined among chemists and physi- 
ologists, as to the peculiarity of the compounds that are formed in organic assimilation, or the laws of 
their formation, without even insisting upon the catalytic process, which is peculiar to organic beings, 
we are content to contrast the formation of the crystal with the growth of the animal and vegetable cell. 
The liquid in which the crystal-nucleus is placed, and from which it is formed, has certain chemical 
ingredients, which neither itself nor any other nucleus has any influence in providing or preparing. It 
surrounds this nucleus, to the external walls of which certain of its elements are attached by mechanical 
adhesion in regular forms. The wall or coat of the animal or vegetable cell, on the other hand, is an 
agent that strains and secretes aliment through its substance and brings it within its limits, making 
it a part of itself. "When it "has prepared it for use, it proceeds to assimilate it to itself. Its growth 
is not, however, a mere enlargement of bulk by accretion of new matter to the individual ceil already 
in being. It can only grow as it prepares new cells, each like itself in structure and function, and adds 
them to itself by the closest union. The cell — the beginning of life — not only begins with an aliment 
prepared, but with the capacity to produce another cell, and by this production it grows. This process 
of growth, though involving mechanical and chemical processes and results, is a process wholly un- 
known to the mechanics and chemistry of other kinds of matter, and cannot be accounted for by such 
processes or laws either singly or in combination. 

In all other combinations except the vital, the result or product is purely mechanical or chemical, and 
is distinguished by mechanical and chemical attributes. These may be unlike those of the constituents, 
but they are clearly like them as being mechanical and chemical, and nothing more. The properties of a 
neutral salt, though unlike, and perhaps opposed to those of either of the constituting elements, still obey 
mechanical and chemical laws, and produce effects which are appropriate to these modes of action. Id 



32 INTRODUCTION. § 25. 

tbe organic product the result is an agent capable of a function or mode of action peculiar to a living 
being, a function which can be said to be chemical or mechanical only so far as it deals with material 
substances, and controls their properties in a manner peculiar to itself. Thus the lungs, the heart, and 
the brain have definite chemical constituents, perhaps the same or perhaps not the same in each. But 
the product in each is an organ capable of a special and unshared function, -which controls and modifies 
the mechanical and chemical properties of inorganic being, but is not itself for that reason a mechanical 
or chemical agent. 

3. Growth in a living being proceeds after a definite plan, and is adapted to the end 
Growth x>ro- °^ * ne individual and the species. This adaptation applies to the structure, form, and 
ceeds after a function of every part and organ. 

plan. Inorganic accretions are homogeneous in respect to material, figure, and properties. 

"With a given nucleus and a given material, the union is of the same to the same, and 
the product, so far as structure is concerned, is similar in all its parts. The form is determined by some 
mechanical agency, which is purely accidental, and hence such substances are, with one exception, said 
to be formless, i. e., without determined form. In the crystal, with homogeneity of structure, there is 
deQniteness, and to a certain extent, variety of form. But the symmetrical variety in the species is 
accounted for by the law of polarity, determining a special mechanical structure in a special chemical 
material. Deviations in the individual from the form of the species, are referred to some disturbing 
mechanical influence, which arrests or impedes the production of the completed form. 

But in organic growth the structure is heterogeneous. The several parts, i. e., organs of a plant or 
animal are more or less unlike in their chemical constitution, though they are fed by the same aliment. 

They are still more unlike in form. The root, the stem, the bud, the bark, the leaf, the flower of every 
plant, the external members, and the internal organs of the simplest animal, are unlike each other, even 
to the halves of the same pairs. The wholes made up of these parts arc unequal in siae in each individ- 
ual. There is nothing in tbe action of any known mechanical or chemical forces to indicate or account 
for this diversity, which is constantly repeated, and runs into every minute and subordinate detail. 

These several parts are not only diverse in their structure and form but they are also diverse in their 
functions. To each is assigned a duty which is peculiar to itself and which no other does or can 
perform. 

But each part though diverse and peculiar in each of these particulars is adapted to every other in 
each ; to the structure, the form, and function of every other, which all together are adapted to the form, 
material and sphere of existence of the whole which these parts compose. Each part has a form not 
only more or less adapted to the successful discharge of its functions, but also to the form of every other 
part, so as with it to make a whole which shall be convenient for its nses and perhaps distinguished by 
beauty and grace. The function of each organ is adapted to act with the function of every other, in 
such a way that the continued existence of the whole is maintained; and the well-being of the whole in 
its turn promotes the well-being and successful action of the parts. 

This growth after a plan is peculiar to living or organized beings. In the known operation of me- 
chanical and chemical laws there is nothing which secures such a devolopement or result. The plan in- 
volves more than the perfection of a single individual ; it contemplates the production of several individ- 
uals of different characteristics before the cycle is completed and ready to begin anew. Should the pos- 
sibilities of development within the sphere of living beings be proved to be greatly extended, as far as 
the most extravagant theorists contend, it would only increase the mystery of life, because it would en- 
large the complexity of the plan which the living force tends to complete, and of the destiny which it is 
able to fulfil. The egg of the winged moth, or butterfly, includes in the plan and destiny of its being 
capacities to be developed into and through three forms of existence. This does not set aside the truth 
that the egg is developed after a plan, but rather confirms and enforces it. 

4. Living beings are still further peculiar, in that their existence and growth involve 
Matter changes a constant change of material in consistency with integrity of being and sameness of 
but form is pre- form. Combinations purely mechanical and chemical, w T hen completed, remain, or 
served. jf there is any action or reaction In the material, they are attended with change of 

structure or alteration of form. But in a plant or animal, the whole or large portions 
of their substance are changed in a longer or shorter period, while the form is unaltered, or if changed 
it is enlarged after the original pattern. While gradual and often unobserved changes of structure are 
going on, the functions of each part are not in the least interrupted. 

5. Organic beings are very largely susceptible of repair. A carious bone may be 
hollowed out, and yet, if the periostemn remains entire, the cavity may be filled by a 

Li.to U(lnilta ro_ Bccond growth. The paws of the salamander may be cut off, and the wholo be restored 
after the pattern of the first. The bones, twenty or more, the skin, nerves, muscles, 
and vessels, all will be reproduced in as perfect adaptation as in the original. {Flou- 
rens, De la Vie et de V Intelligence, P. I., sec. I., c. 2.) 

No phenomenon like this is known to chemical and mechanical forces or their laws. 
These features, all of which are more or less conspicuously manifested in all organic and living being*, 
have led many of the most eminent physiologists to the conclusion that there is an organic or vital forc« 



§25- THE DELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTER. 33 

in every living being. Such a force must from its nature be an individual force, possessing, indeed, the 
common characteristics which we have noticed, but maintaining in each an activity which begins and 
ends with its individual existence. In this respect this description of force is strikingly contrasted with 
all known activities of general physical laws. A mechanical force can be imparted and withdrawn, again 
and again, to and from, the same mass of matter. Its parts can be separated and again be compressed 
and united so as to restore its integrity. The same chemical elements can be combined and decomposed 
into substantially the same product, with the same particles, in the same form, and capable of similar 
functions. But a living being, when its integrity is destroyed, can never live again. Should the same 
particles be again united in an organism it would not be the same being. Its individuality is indicated 
by beginning with a germ, maintaining continuous nutrition, and discharging uninterrupted functions. 

The conclusion which we have reached, that there is a separate vital principle or 
Opposite views force is rejected by many philosophers and physiologists. Those who hold that the 
stated and de- soul is material in its composition, must of necessity reject the view that there is a 
fined, separate principle of life. Those who account for the existence of the higher forms 

of being in matter, life and spirit, by a preconceived theory of evolution of the higher 
from the lower, are precluded by the necessity of their metaphysical theory from accepting a vital force. 
We may properly leave the views and arguments of both these classes unconsidered and notice the more 
plausible reasons which are urged by many eminent physiologists of other schools. 

The view which they hold in common, under a great variety of special diversities of opinion, may be 
expressed in the following proposition. The terms life, living, &c, are general and abstract expressions 
for a great variety of powers and processes, which are proved or may be presumed to be chemical and 
mechanical. The fact that these processes and powers are so very peculiar in their phenomena and their 
products, is to be accounted for by the special combinations or special conditions in which they act. 
Thus Carpenter defines life " as the state of action peculiar to an organized body or organism." He con- 
tends that there would be no objection save the probability of its abuse to the employment of the terms 
" Vital Principle," " Nisus Formativus" or " Organic Force, "as convenient names for the unknown 
powers which are thus developed. 

Richerand defines life as "a collection of phenomena which succeed each other during a limited time 
in an organized body." De Blainville says : " Life is the twofold internal movement of composition and 
decomposition at once general and continuous." " Life," according to Mr. G. H. Lewes, " is a series of defi- 
nite composite changes both of structure and composition which take place in an individual without de- 
stroying its identity." Herbert Spencer, after several tentative definitions, concludes with this : Life is 
" the definite combination of definite composite heterogeneous changes, both simultaneous and successive, 
in correspondence with external coexistences and sequences." R. Virchow makes " the vital force to be 
the expression of the definite co-working of physical and chemical forces." Lotze, the distinguished 
physiologist of G-ottinggn, says, that " living functions are not simply forces but capacities for functions 
which arise out of the special method of conjoining material particles into a coherent system.' 1 All life, 
in his view, depends " on the complicated relations under which the physical powers act as an organism." 

Aa a general argument in support of his views Carpenter uses an illustration which 
Carpenter's il- we Presume would be accepted by all who reject a " vital force." " We shall sup- 
lustration and pose a young physiologist, entirely ignorant of physical science, but educated in im- 
argument. plicit faith in the vital principle, witnessing for the first time the action of the steam 

engine." " He would observe a machine of various parts, would try various experi- 
ments, would perceive that the actions are as unlike as the parts, and all tend to one result." " Heuce 
he may safely conclude that the whole series of phenomena is due to one presiding agency — a ' steam- 
engine principle,' — by the operation of which upon the material structure, its actions are produced and 
made to harmonize with each other and with their ultimate object." In our view no example could 
possibly be employed which is better fitted to refute the theory of Dr. Carpenter, and establish the 
opposite, than is this very illustration. The reason why it is absurd to accept a " steam-engine princi- 
ple " in a steam engine, and not absurd to accept a vital principle in a living being, is that a careful study 
of the parts of the machine which are alleged to be analogous to the organs of the body, reveals the 
operation of forces that in other connections are familiarly known in their laws and their products. There 
is nothing new in the action of the separate parts of the engine when separate and when combined in 
a whole. Each part, as a part, only does what we have often observed in other cases. The joint action- 
of many of the parts, their conspiring, correcting and modifying movements, is just what we should pre- 
dict if we had analyzed those several forces and carefully computed their result. We reject the steam- 
engine principle by the law of parsimony, because no such force is needed to account for the result. We 
accept the vital principle because no known force or function is adequate, or may be fairly presumed from 
analogy to be adequate to the result. The nature of heat, its power to generate steam, the elastic force of 
steam, the means of producing it, the various devices by which it can be introduced and displaced, the 
methods of converting the direct motion into the circular, are all familiar in other connections. If a 
eingle phrase or term is used for their combined action as directed to one result, such a term is at once 
3 



34 INTRODUCTION. § 25. 

understood to be nothing more than an abstract expression for the conspiring activity of well-known 
ngents. If the illustration were pertinent to the vital force, and established Carpenter's doctrine, it ought 
to be possible to analyze the living body into certain organs, each possessed of well-known powers an*l 
•acting after well-known laws, and producing or tending to results that each, fully and clearly accounts for. 
But this is not possible. There are separate organs, each endowed, it is true, with certain mechanical 
and chemical properties, but these organs, with all these capacities and tendencies to action, do not in their 
combination explain the functions nor define the conception of a living being. It is because these 
properties are modified and controlled to functions and results unknown in any other connection that 
we ask what is the power which controls them. It may be said that they overrule and control one another, 
or that they act with or against one another, and so the result follows and this co-action or counteraction 
of such known forces is life. To this we have only to rejoin that we cannot trace the result to the 
known joint or counter action of one force with another. There is nothing in the nature or tendency of 
these forces supposed when acting alone which would lead us even to suspect that such results as those 
in question would follow when they act in conjunction. 

We allow, as has been already said, that chemical and mechanical properties and laws are present in 
a living being, for we trace their presence and measure their action ; but inasmuch as this action is con- 
trolled by some agency other than their combined action, so far as known to us, we are compelled to ask, 
What is that agency ? We are driven back tc }he necessity of assuming that there is an agency or force 
which is distinct and separate from the combined activity of forces already known. 

Under the pressure of this difficulty, those who reject a vital force adopt one of two 
Two other ex- expedients. They either assert that the special combinations of mechanical and 
pedients resort- chemical elements which occur in living beings develop capacities before unknown 
ed ta -and unsuspected, because undeveloped, or they find in the special circumstances and 

conditions of living beings a sufficient explanation of the development of these before 
unknown capacities, in the new form of vital processes and phenomena. In respect to both they reason, 
that though there is no decisive evidence that these new combinations of forces or the special conditions 
of their action do develop these special mechanical or chemical agencies, yet the probability that they do is so 
overwhelming as to stand in place of a demonstration, until the contrary has been shown to be impossible. 

Thus M. J. Schleiden reasons, " It is certain that chemistry has solved many questions in respect to 
life by means of the eame laws which operate in inorganic bodies ; that no one doubts that electricity 
and galvanism affect organic beings ; these are with all bodies subject to the laws of gravitation, cohe- 
sion, adhesion, &c, &c. Nor do we as yet know the limits of the efficiency of any one of these forces in 
organic beings. Conceding that there were a special vital force, so much is clear, that we ought not to 
speak of it until not a doubt remained that we had fully investigated to its extremest limits the sphere 
of the efficiency of all the organic forces in organic beings. Then only could we be in a situation to deter- 
mine with absolute certainty, whether, of that whole which we call life, a greater or smaller portion re- 
mained which could not be referred to inorganic agencies. Thus, and thus only, could we reach a vital 
force."— (Grundzuge der vnssenschaftlichen Botanik. Leipzig. 1845.) 

In the same spirit Lotze urges that the necessity of resorting to a vital force can only be demon- 
strated by first exhausting every conceivable experiment and theory which supposes the possible opera- 
tion of mechanical and chemical laws. While he candidly concedes that no experiments prove this, he 
dogmatically advances the theory that there may still be- certain points of affinity and action between 
inorganic agencies, which, if known, would fully explain the vital phenomena. 

Of these suggestions of possible modes and conditions of action, we can only say that if 
^ there are no indications of such modes and conditions, it is unphilosophical to believe 

the" are pos?i- them. To do so would require a course of induction that would set aside the force of 
ble. the methods of agreement and difference, neither of which could prove any thing 

against the possible suggestion of unknown and unindicated methods of action. The 
simple fact that these lower forces are known to be present in organic beings, and to be effective of certain 
results, suggests no more than the bare possibility of their activity to other and even to vital eflects, but if 
possibility does not ripen into evidence by positive tests, it must be set aside. The fact that these agencies?, 
as Schleiden intimates, have explained certain vital phenomena before deemed inexplicable, signifies no 
more than that we now trace their presence further than we had suspected it ; but it does not in the least 
account for the peculiarity of certain other effects which chemistry and mechanics can in no way explain. 

But it is urged that an analogous fact is furnished in the formation of many chemical compounds— 
as when certain neutral salts exhibit properties of which the constituents gave no intimation ; and when 
ingredients that are mild and harmless do, as soon as they are combined in certain proportions, produce 
substances that are acrid and destructive. To this it is replied, that the new properties or activities, 
though unlike those of the constituent elements, in certain respects are like them all, in so far as that 
they are still chemical properties. They do not belong to an entirely different sphere, as do the vital 
powers. The properties of the chemical substance are not only chemical, but they are permanent 
and fixed. Those of the vital organism aro not only peculiar in their nature, but capable of variations 
and progress. The rudiment of life in the animal or vegetable, on the other hand, is not fixed, but is 
cu-ublc of change and development ; it is even potential of the whole organism. The living oell ig 



§25. 



THE RELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTER. 35 



not only organized, but organific, as it is capable of growth and development into new organs, with 
peculiar and as yet unknown and unused functions. 

Moreover it can be demonstrated that animal cells which have precisely the same chemical compo 
sition, and are precisely similar in every other property, are developed into animals of entirely different 
species. This is true not only of the cells of different species of certain infusoria, but of the cells of larger 
animals belonging to the same genus, which exhibit, when developed, striking diversities of size, form. 
&c. One cell or germ of given chemical constituents, say of a mouse, is not only organific of a product 
of a given form, size, functions, &c, but another cell of the same constituents produces another product, 
differing in form, size, and functions, say an elephant. 

Those who do not accept the argument ab ignorantia which we have described, 01 
who will not rest their cause upon the general probabilities to which we have re- 
conditions * ferred, seek to find a decisive reason for the diverse character of the inorganic and 
organic phenomena in the peculiar conditions to which the agencies are subjected, 
which they contend are common to both. Some explain the development of the 
organic from the inorganic by heat. Some resort to light as the sufficient cause for the evolution of mat 
ter into life. But heat and light, though both are essential to growth and life, cannot be shown to be 
the originators of the capacity for either in a substance that under every variety of either and of both, 
may remain inorganic and dead. Others contend that at certain periods of existence, the inorganic mate- 
rials might have been more sensitive to these agencies, and so the agencies themselves have become 
almost creative. But these are mere conjectures of what is possible. 

Others resort to organization itself, as furnishing the required conditions under which 
. < these chemical and mechanical agencies manifest vital effects. Thus Carpenter says : 

sorted to. " ^ e nn< ^ nothing, then, in our fundamental idea of matter to oppose the doctrine that 

vital properties are developed in it by the very act of organization. 1 ' " For no one can 
assert that there does not exist in every uncombined particle of matter which is capa- 
ble of being assimilated, the ability to exhibit vital actions when placed in the requisite conditions ; in 
other words, when made a part of a living system by the process of organization." " The process of 
organization" and "the capacity of being assimilated" are phrases which include the very thing to 
be accounted for and defined. What is organization, is the very question which needs to be answered. 
Is it or is it not a peculiar combination of material particles which enables their mechanical and 
chemical properties to evolve and exhibit vital phenomena ? The capacity of matter to be assimilated, 
what is that? To say that the reason why material particles, when united, pass into a substance which 
is alive, is owing to the fact that a living being assimilates them, and they are capable of being united 
to its substance, is to overlook the question to be answered, which is, what is the force which organizes? 
Herbert Spencer, in a similar way, takes refuge in the phrase physiological units, after being forced to 
reject chemical and morphological units as inadequate. (JPrinc. of Biology, § 66.) 

Nor does it relieve the difficulty to say, with Carpenter and Lotze, that it is compe- 
. tent for the Creator only to organize material particles into a living being. The 

Power. question still remains, What is it to create or originate a living being ? What is a liv- 

ing being when it is created? What does the Creator perform, and what is the product 
of his act? Does he simply develop capacities which were latent in mechanical and 
chemical attributes, or does he give to some of these particles a new force which is capable of organizing 
matter into life, and of propagating life ? Is life the cause or is it the effect of the organization of matter ? 
The special conditions sought for are supplied by some in the brain or nerve power. But brain or 
nerve power, if it means any thing more than the sum total of the particles of which the brain and nerves 
consist, must mean the same as organized particles or organizations. With this interpretation of the 
phrases, the original difficulty returns with ah its force. 

The objection is sometimes urged, that if life means any thing more than material par- 
ticles specially coordinated and combined, there could be no possibility of the decay 
mits of decav or ex t' nct i° n °f ^ e ' If life modifies and controls other agencies, these agencies can- 

not be injurious or destructive to life— which is contrary to the facts of experience. To 
this it is sufficient to reply that the doctrine of vital force does not necessarily involve 
absolute and complete control over these agencies. The vital agency may, by its very nature, be capa- 
ole of assimilating only certain particles into the living substance. The simple repetition of the act of 
assimilation may involve the weakening of the assimilating force. The introduction of uncongenial ma- 
terial, in quality or quantity, may both deteriorate the various tissues which are its product and hasten 
its dissolution. Organized matter may be but an equilibrium of balanced forces, the chemical and me- 
chanical on the one side, and the vital on the other. When the balance is disturbed, disease may be the 
consequence ; when it is entirely and irrecoverably l03t, the dissolution of the organism may follow. 

Another objection may be urged against the doctrine of a vital force — that it is, by ita 

No objection very definition, an individual agency, and that science can know nothing of such 

that it is indi- forces or their laws. Science, it will be alleged, knows only general agencies with 

v aal- their universal laws. To this it might be replied, so much the worse for science, if its 

conceptions of being are so onesided and narrow, and its assumptions are so hasty 



36 INTRODUCTION. § 25. 

and positive. If science does not recognize the individual, it must overlook the best result of science, 
which is to explain individual events by general laws. It must deny purpose and design in nature, 
which must be assumed to impart the highest interest to every combination of universal agencies. It 
would seem that the general and the individual are correlative conceptions, and the denial of the one as 
a fact must involve the impcssibility of the other as a thought. Though it may be true that science has 
*he most direct concern with the general, yet it is also true that it impliedly assumes the individual as 
giving meaning to the general. In the recognition, on proper proof, of a vital force, as an individual 
agency with common characteristics, she brings these two poles of knowledge together, or very near to 
each other, as it may be expected she. would in one of the higher forms of being. Should these two rela- 
tions lead her to a completed circle in the conception and laws of a form of being still higher, it would be 
none the worse for science, in respect to the surety of her foundations, or her claims to confidence and 
respect. 

2. Relations of the Soul to Life. 

The facts and considerations adduced establish the existence of a vital agent or force. It has already 
been asserted, and will hereafter be proved, that there is a soul or subject of those higher activities which 
are known to consciousness, viz. the rational, the emotional, and voluntary. Assuming this to be true, the 
second of our two questions naturally arises at once, what is the relation of the one of these to the other ? 
What is the relation of the soul to life? Are there in man two distinct agents or principles, viz., the vital 
and the psychical, or do the two coincide in one, the separate terms being abstractions, hypostases for the di- 
verse functions that are appropriated in language to each ? This question has, like the 
question respecting the principle of life, been variously answered. The doctrines of the 
ions °P in " ancients, in respect to the community andseparableness of the two, have already been 

referred to. In modern times, those who nave rejected the materialistic theory have 
almost universally contended that the subject of conscious activity is an agent or 
essence distinct from the principle of life. The agent or force which thinks, feels, and wills, has been sup- 
posed to have nothing to do with the processes which originate and direct the corporeal functions. The 
connection between the two agents or essences has usually been regarded as that of mere coSxistence or 
intimate relationship. These views were the natural result of the dualistic theory of Descartes, in assert- . 
ing for extension and thought, — set forth by him as the fundamental or essential attributes of matter 
and spirit, — entire irrelationship to one another. Since his time, in all the varieties of psychological and 
physiological theories, those who have held the soul to be spiritual and immortal have almost uniformly 
and unanimously held that the agent of knowledge and feeling is distinct in essence from the principle 
of life. One exception deserves to be named, in the school of G. E. Stahl, (1660-1734,) the eminent physi- 
cian and chemist. Stahl maintained that the soul was active in the formation and functional processes 
of the body, as well as in the exercise of the conscious activities; but he connected with this theory cer- 
tain extreme doctrines which seemed to be inconsistent with its spirituality and independence of matter, 
aa well as with the plainest facts of experience. 

The progress of physiology in recent times, as well as the more careful study of the conditions of 
certain of the psychical phenomena, have seemed to favor a theory intermediate between those of Des- 
cartes and Stahl, a theory teaching the identity of the vital and spiritual forces. It may be stated thus : 
The force or agent which at first originates the bodily organism, and actuates its functions, at last man- 
ifests itself, as the soul, in higher forms of activity, viz., in knowledge, feeling, and wiil. In other 
words, the principle of life and of psychi'-jal activity is one. 

In support of this opinion the following facts are adduced : The vital phenomena pre- 
Vital phenome- cede tl10 psychical in the order of time. But, in connection with the first appearance 
na precede the of the latter, there are no indications to consciousness or observation of the beginning 
psychical. f a now being or agent. The first activities of the soul are not only manifested much 

later than the functions of life, but they are at first rudimental and very partially 
devcloped. They are also blended with the functions of life, both in conscious experience, so far as we 
can recall them, and to the observation of the looker-on, so far as he can penetrate beneath the outward 
appearance. "Were the soul an essence wholly distinct from the vital agent, wo should naturally expect 
that the beginning of its existence would bo made known by decisive evidence. But there is no evidence 
of the sort. We curiously ask, When does it begin to be ? We cannot easily believe that, if its existence 
begins with life, it should remain dormant so long, and yet be another being. 

When life and 60ul are fully developed, the general intensity or energy of the rowers 
The energy of °f cacn var y Av ^ tn one another. As the tone of the bodily life so is the general 
the two propor- energy of the soul's capacities, its capacity for keenness of perception, clearness and 
ti0f!Kl - range of memory, power of reasoning, energy of feeling, strength of will. When 

this tone of life is lowered, as in sleep, faintness and disease, there is a general ten- 
dency to depression of the psychical activities. This is the general rule or fact, to which there are 
apparent exceptions to which we shall next refer. This generel rulo would indicate a common essence- 
provided this can bo reconciled with other facts. 



§25. 



THE RELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTER. 



This community of essence is still further indicated and attested by phenomena whi 

look at first in the opposite direction. "We refer to those facts -which indicate that 

verselv 163 IU * certain special activities of life are incompatible with certain special activities of 

the soul, or at least that the greatest energy of the one must be at the expense 

of the greatest energy of the other. Some of those functions which pertain tc 

>he so-called vegetative or nutritive soul, as of growth, digestion, sleep, draw upon the highei 

nature. They seem to be so exhaustive and absorbing of a certain common stock of energy, as tc 

leave little force for intellectual or emotional activity. Hence in the early period of life, when the growth 

and maturing of the bodily substance and organs are going on, the intellect is physically incapable of the 

strain and effort attendant upon certain functions. In adult years the states of body most unsuitable 

for 6uch activities, are the states which are devoted to rest, recuperation and nourishment. In disease 

and old age not only is the general tone of both body and mind lowered, but the little energy that can 

be used by either seems to be withdrawn from the psychical functions and husbanded by nature to defend 

and sustain the nutritive activities. These phenomena are best explained by oneness of essence. 

Again : many of the conscious activities of the soul are dependent upon certain con- 
The Conscious ditions and excitements which involve relations and activities of which it is wholly 
depend on un- unconscious. Some of these are material and involve relations of the soul to organ- 
t j es# ized, i. e., living, matter. These are best explained on the supposition that the vital and 

psychical essence is one. Others are immaterial, but the existence of these proves 
beyond question that the activities of the soul are not limited to what are usually recognized as its con- 
scious phenomena. l 

Examples of these activities and processes are the following : The act of sense-perception requires 
as its condition a material object, a sensorium or nervous apparatus, the excitement of the 6ensorium, 
usually through the medium of the sense-organ, and the transmission of this excitement by a continu- 
ous and uninterrupted nervous organism. All these are. processes of the unconscious in man, whatever 
this may be, and pertaining in part, it may be, to the living body, and dependent on the vital force alone, if 
there be such a distinct agent, in part to that in the nature of the soul which qualifies it to be excited 
by the aroused sensorium. Now whether or not the life and the soul are one, this certainly must be 
received as unquestioned, that in addition to the soul's capacities for conscious activities, it is capable 
also of eertain unconscious processes. The consideration of this fact removes the chief objection against 
its identity with the principle of life, inasmuch as it demonstrates that its nature or essence is complex, 
and extends beyond the sphere of its conscious activities. This complexness may reach so widely as to 
include capacities for those processes which we call vital. 

But still further it is to be observed that some of these processes and relations respect 
material existences, and some of these consciously imply relations of extension 
•Tiaft S r U a n and place. We do not insist on the point that the soul must in some way or other 
cognize material and extended objects, but upon the truth that the sensational ele- 
ment in sense-perception involves an apprehension of some connection of the soul with 
the living, viz. the extended, organism. This fact, indeed, is overlooked in the theories of some psychol- 
ogists and denied in those of others, but it cannot we think be set aside (§117). If, however, this rela- 
tion of the soul to extension is not pressed, because it is still in dispute, it can not be denied that the 
soul is so related to extended matter as to be capable of exciting and directing the activities of its own 
body. The conscious perception of matter being laid out of view, as well as the conscious location of 
the soul's sensations, the relation of the soul to matter remains unquestioned. The soul holds at least 
those relations to extension and matter which are implied in the unconscious processes or acts which 
fulfil its conscious determinations. This fact is fitted to set aside those objections against the identity of 
the vital and psychical force which are founded on the alleged impossibility that the soul should hold 
any relations whatever to extension. "Whatever view be taken of the soul's spirituality, the fact cannot 
be overlooked that it is capable of being affected by and of acting upon extended matter. 

Again: the body is in general and particular adapted to the habits and uses of the 

species and of the individual soul with which it is connected. This adaptation is so 

T "dto°1fte\o(lv manifold a nd complete as to indicate that the agent that forms and moulds these 

peculiarities is the same that uses and applies them. The human body is unlike 

the body of every other species of animals, not merely in its external features of form 

and function, but also in its special capacities to be the servant of the human soul. The hand is not 

merely a more dexterous and finely moulded instrument than the forefoot of the quadruped and the 

paw of the monkey, but is specially fitted to be used by the inventive and skilful mind. Every other part 

of the human body is also especially harmonious to and congruous with the human soul, as intellect, 

sensibility and will. Not only is there a general harmony between the body and 60ul of the species 

as a whole, but there is in individuals a special harmony between the body and soul. The eyo that is 

capable of discerning the nicest shades of color, or tracing graceful outlines of form, is usttfilly conjoined 

with a special delight in color and form, as well as with a capacity of hand to reproduce what delights 

both soul and eye. The ear that is physically refined in its discrimination of sounds and musical tones, 

Is usually attended by a special sensibility of the soul to the delights of elocution and music, and with 



INTRODUCTION. § 25. 

'the physical and psychical capacity to produce the sounds which give it such pleasure. Quickness cf in 
tellect is attended by organs that are mobile and acute and a temperament that is harmonious with both 
intellect and organism. It is possible to account for these fine adjustments of nature by a general law of 
preestablished harmony between the corporeal and the psychical, or by a special and individual direction 
of Providence in every instance, but they are more rationally explained by supposing the vital agent that 
forms the body and the psychical agent that uses it to be one and the same, and thus affirming an original 
Ziarmony between the bodily and the spiritual endowments and capacities of this identical agent. 

This conclusion is rendered more probable by the well-known fact that after the 
The body is body is formed and developed, and has become the dwelling-place of the soul, it is 
moulded by the changed in many respects, and as it were, formed anew by the influence of the con 
eou ^ scious activities. The thoughts which are entertained, the feelings which are cher- 

ished, and the purposes which are enacted, mould and form the body within and 
without so as to be a readier instrument and a more fit manifestation of the spiritual activities and 
states. The fact is unquestionable. By what intermediate psycho-physical processes is this result 
effected? If there be a vital principle, it must be accomplished by its agency. In the gradual, but 
steady and certain progress made by the soul in impressing itself upon the body, it is not the matter of 
the body, considered as matter, that the soul moulds and fixes for its uses by the slow but certain influ- 
ences of years, or a lifetime. It is only the living, organized body that is sufficiently plastic to respond 
to these forming influences. But it can be rendered plastic only by the power of the vital force. If this 
force be not one and the same with the psychical agent, the two must be adapted to each other by an 
arrangement more wonderful, and must work with one another with a harmony more extraordinary 
than the union of the two in the same essence could possibly involve. 

The sudden influence of vivid conceptions, or of excited feelings upon the muscular activities, is an- 
other example of the power of the soul over the body. The imagination of a scene of cruelty and suffering 
makes the flesh creep, puts the limbs into attitudes of defence and aversion, and awakens the features to 
expressions of disgust or horror. Terror induces fainting, convulsions, and death. All these phenom- 
ena are entirely consistent with the theory which makes the vital and the psychical forces to be one. 

The capacity of the body in look, gesture, and speech, to express the thoughts and 

feelings of the soul, and the capacity of the soul to interpret these bodily move- 

ifests theVoul 11 " ment8 an d effects as language, and to look through them into the soul within, by an 

impulse and an art which could never be either taught or learned if nature itself did 

not prepare the way— all these phenomena which elevate the body itself almost to a 

spiritual essence, are more easy of explanation, if we suppose that with the capacity for the psychical 

activities which are peculiar to every individual, there are also connected in onenes3 of essence those; 

vital powers which act in such fine and subtle harmony with them. 

To the identity of the vital and psychical agents, the following objections are urged. 
Objections The Psychical and vital activities, and the agents of each, have no possible relations to 
two cannot be one another, and their force cannot be united in the same being. The alleged in- 
related, compatibility between the two was stated in its extremest form by Descartes : 
' Thought is the essence of spirit— extension is the essence of matter ; and these have 
no relations to one another. The one is known by consciousness ; the other by perception.' These 
definitions, which were at first esteemed so satisfactory, because they emphasized important distinc- 
tions, were found to be imperfect and one-sided by the absurdity of the logical extremes to which they 
were carried. If thought is the essence of spirit, and extension the essence of matter, then, it was 
inferred, it is impossible for matter to impress spirit so as to be known by it ; and it is equally impos- 
sible for spirit to act upon matter so as to impel and direct it, and yet both of these are incontestable 
^R facts. To overcome this difficulty, several theories were devised by the disciples -and successors of 
^L Descartes, each of which was in its turn rejected as being as forced and extreme as the original 
H definition which made it necessary. 'Body and spirit have no real influence or activity upon o::e 
^^^ another, said one theory— the phenomena or changes of tho one are merely occasions of correspondent 
Sflflrai changes in the other.' This was the theory of occasional causes, or occasionalism, as held by Gculincx. 
frSllB 'These phenomena are arranged beforehand to take place in a perpetual parallelism or harmony, each 
OQKi series of which runs forward in a separate line of events that matches with or corresponds to tho other, 
Wf without any causal connection.' This was the theory of pre-established harmony, maintained by Leibnitz. 
HB ' Matter and spirit have no separate existence ; there is only one substance in the universe, of which 
Cfftf thought and extension arc the corresponding attributes or phenomena, each correspondent to each.' This 
W^ was tho theory of Spi7ioza. The influence of these definitions has been felt to the present time in tie 
C assertion of what arc esteemed the essential constituents of matter and spirit, in many psychological 
J theories and metaphysical discussions. 

SB But whatever may be assumed or laid down by philosophers as essential to the con- 

rt ceptions of matter and spirit, tho fact remains unquestioned that the two are capable 

V JntV* 36 ^ ar0 **" of mutually affecting ono another. The extended and the non-extended show that they 

R are capable of holding mutual relations. Matter, though extended, does actually affect 

L 



§25 



THE RELATIONS OF THE SOUL TO MATTER. 3U 



i priori assumption that unextended spirit and extended matter can have no relation one to another, ar< 
set aside Tby these obvious facts, attested by observation and experience. The one does affect the other, 
and every objection against the essential unity of life and spirit derived from their irrelationship it 
effectually disposed of by this incontestable fact. 

It is still further to be observed that the matter which affects the spirit, and which is in turn affected 
Dy it, is not matter which is inorganic or dead, but always that which is organized and living. It is the 
natter that is ensouled, i. e., formed and animated by the vital principle, of which the spirit feels the 
presence in its sensibilities, and which it can move in accordance with its will. If the principle of vital 
force and spiritual activity be one and the same, then we can easily see how this agent should first 
prepare matter for its higher uses, by giving it the endowments of life. This involves no subjection of 
spirit to matter, but rather the subjection of matter to spirit, if indeed the latter can take the former and 
by lower and unconscious activities can mould it for a dwelling-place and instrument for its service and 
uses, before it enters into the possession and mastery of it by sensibility and intelligence. 

It is objected again, that the view which is urged would bring the soul of man into 
Animals and *°o near an affinity "with the so-called souls of animals and of plants. If the spirit of 
Plants must man gives life to his body, then, it is urged, it is possible that that which gives life to 
have souls. -the plant and the animal may be endowed with the attributes of intelligence and 

personality. This does not follow as a necessary inference, by any means. The fact 
that the soul of the plant has certain capacities and performs certain functions which we call vegetable 
and living, does not carry the inference that it might also perform the higher functions which pertain to 
the animal. No more does it follow that the so-called soul of either should in their nature be capable ot 
performing the still higher functions which are peculiar to the spirit of man. What is asserted is simply 
that the spirit of man, in addition to its higher endowments, may also possess the lower powers, which 
vitalize dead matter into a human body. Because thei'e are other agents in the universe which have the 
capacity to form and animate animal bodies, each in its kind endowed with its appropriate capacities 
and sensibilities, and these agents are like the human soul in its lower functions, it does not in the leas' 
follow that these lower souls can ever become human spirits, or can exercise human intelligence or attain 
to human personality. 

It, again, it be urged that the soul of the plant can be divided by the kn'.fe or separated by buds 01 
germs, these facts pertain only to the vital functions of this kind of living beings. They do not degrade 
the human soul to a likeness with themselves in any of those particulars in which it is most diverse from 
them. Its higher endowments are not lowered in dignity because there is claimed for it the additional 
function of forming for itself a material structure by a vital force which is like that which the plant or 
the animal possesses. The plant and the animal on the other hand are not exalted to a higher position 
or a more exalted destiny, of intelligence, personality, or immortal existence because they are like the 
human soul in the single particular of ministering life to a material organism. 

It might be objected, again, that this view is incompatible with the doctrine of the 
Inconsistent natural and necessary immortality of the soul. The immortality of the soul has 

with the soul's ever since the time of Plato, been often, not to say generally, taught as a necessary 
immortality. consequence of its ethereal essence, which, in its turn, involved an essential supe- 

riority to and non-conformity with gross matter. Plato taught the preexistence of the 
spirit, and regarded its connection with matter as an imprisonment of its energies and a soiling of its 
jiurity, and the remnants of these doctrines have survived till the present time, and have been supposed 
in a certain sense to be sanctioned by, or at least to be more consistent with the Christian doctrine of 
immortality. Whatever is important in the Platonic or the Christian view of the spirituality and immor- 
tality of the human spirit is not at all diminished by the doctrine of its unity with the vital force. That 
the soul should begin its existence by vitalizing dead matter into a sentient organism is, as has already 
been intimated, a token of its power over matter. If this involves a transient subjection to material laws 
and material limitations, this maybe necessary for its education and moral discipline. That the loAver 
powers should be developed first in the order of time, before the higher capacities are matured, does not 
detract from the essential superiority of the latter when they are in fact unfolded, nor from their im- 
mortal existence and continued activity. That the soul begins to exist as a vital force, does not require 
that it should always exist as such a force, or in connection with a material body. Should it require 
another 6uch body or medium of activity, it may have the power to create it for itself as it has formed 
the one whioh it first inhabited, or it may already have formed' it in the germ, and hold it ready for 
occupation and use as soon as it sloughs off the one which connects it with the earth. These are pos- 
sibilities, it is true, but they are sanctioned by sufficient evidence to set aside the objection which we 
are considering. They permit the ouly theory of the soul's continued existence in another state which is 
consistent with the facts of our present being. Whatever may be our speculations in respect to a pre- 
existent eternity for the soul, the evidence of observation and of facts is decisive that it begins its exist- 
ence as a vital agency, and emerges by a gradual waking into the conscious activities of its higher nature. 
These facts it is the duty of the philosopher to adjust to the conception which he may form of its mor^K 
exalted nature and its immortal destiny. He may not by mere speculation set aside the plain and 
incontrovertible evidence of these indisputable facts or the suggestions which they involve. 



40 INTRODUCTION. § 26. 

Last of all it may be objected that consciousness testifies to a direct incompatibility 
Consciousness between matter and spirit, which is decisive against the theory in question. Thai 
testifies to the consciousness testifies that the matter which we perceive is not the spirit which per 
opposite. ceives it, and is, in its distinguishing attributes, totally unlike it, we have already con 

tended ; but this testimony does not authorize the conclusion which is derived that 
spirit cannot vitalize matter. On the other hand, while consciousness testifies to the total unlikeness of 
matter and spirit, it is also continually reminded that spirit is closely implicated with matter in all its 
activities and experiences. The human soul knows that it is not the body which it inhabits, directs and 
resists ; but it also knows itself to be in many respects subject to its power. It suffers pain and pleasure 
through all the extended organism, and depends upon its aid for power to exercise its loftiest endowments. 
In every form of sentient as distinguished from intellectual and emotional activity, the soul is conscious 
that it is connected with the material structure from which it distinguishes itself. The fact of this con- 
nection is that which consciousness most constantly attests. While, then, we accept its testimony to the 
essential antagonism between spirit and matter, we accept its testimony, also, to the intimate union of 
the two. This union we best explain on the theory that spirit possesses the power to shape matter into 
n living existence. Consciousness does not attest directly to this view. By the nature of the case it 
were impossible that it should. But it does affirm certain phenomena which are best explained by the 
theory that the activities of which it is directly the witness are performed by the same agent which 
forms and vitalizes the body, by processes to which consciousness can have no access, because they are 
by the nature of the case withdrawn from its inspection. 

The result to which these considerations lead, is only probable. We can at best establish the theory 
or hypothesis which is more plausible. So far as we have any evidence it is founded on analogies that are 
narrow in their origin and uncertain in their application. But for the reasons already given, we incline 
to the opinion that in man the vital and psychical agent is one. 

Compare Aristotle, HEPI *YXH2 — G. B. Stahl, de Vita. Halle, 1701.— John Hunter, on the Animal 
Economy. London, 1786.— John Abernethy, on Hunter's View of Life. London, 1814.— J. C. Prichard, on 
the Vital Principle. London, 1829.— W. Prout, Bridgewater Treatise. London, 1834.— W. B. Carpenter, 
Human Physiology, also, Art. Life, in Todd's Cyclopaedia ; vol. iii. London, 1S39-1847.— C. Darwin, on the 
Origin of Species, etc. New York, I860.— J. H. Huxley, Origin of Species, etc. New York, 1863.— Her- 
bert Spencer, Principles of Biology, 2 vols. New York, 1867. — Professor Bichard Owen, Archetype and 
Homologies of Vertebrate Skeleton. Van Voorst. London, 1848. Do. Comparative Anatomy : Invertebrata ; 
Vertebrala. Longman. London, 1855. Do. On the Nature of Limbs. Do. Discourse on Parthenogenesis ; 
both Van Voorst. London, 1849.— Do. Palaeontology, 2d ed. Longman. London, 1861.— T. Laycock, Mind 
and Brain. Edinburgh, I860.— J. Muller, Handbuch der Physiologie des Menschen; 2 bde. Coblentz, 
1835-1840. Do. translated by "William Baly. London, 1848.— H. Lotze, Arts. Leben und Lcbcnslcrafl, 
Seele und Seelenlehre in Wagner, Hand-Warterbuch der Physiologie. — H. Ulrici, Gott und die Nalur. Leip- 
zig, 1862. Gott und der Mensch. Leipzig, 1866.— I. H. Fichte, Anthropologie. Leipzig, 1860. Do. Psy- 
chologie. Leipzig, 1864. — Br. Bouillier, Du Principe Vital et de I'Ame Pensante, A. Lemoine, L'Ame et le 
Corps. Paris, 1863. Do. Staid et I'Animisme.—J. Tissot, La Vie dans I' Homme. Paris, 1861.— E. Saisset, 
Richerches Nouvelles sur VAme et sur la Vie. — Revue des Deux Mondes, vol. xl. — H. Philibert, Du Princip* 
de la Vie, suivant Aristole. Paris, 1865. 

IIL 

THE FACULTIES OP THE SOUL. 

We assume, as has been already stated, that the soul is endowed with the capacity to kuovr 
its own phenomena. Reserving for future consideration the nature, the development, 
and the authority of this power, we proceed to apply it in inquiring what consciousness 
finds to be true of the soul, in its phenomena, their conditions and laws. This is the 
question which we arc continually to repeat during the entire course of our investiga- 
tions. A well-ordered arrangement of the answers to this question would give a system 
of psychology. 

8 26. The inquiry which comes first in order is the follow- 

Question con- . ' n ■% t • ii ■,.,-. 

earning the fee- mg : Do ¥C nnd by consciousness that the soul is endowed 
with separate faculties or powers ? This question is prelinii 
nary to all others, for it must be answered, that we may direct the classi- 
fication which we shall adopt, and fix the terminology in which to express 



§27. THE FACULTIES OP THE SOUL. 4] 

the results of our investigations. The question has been earnestly dis- 
cussed, and opposite opinions in regard to it have been zealously held 
and defended. 

§ 27. We answer, first, negatively. We do not find that the 
F arteOT or"an S ot S01U ^ s divided into separate parts or organs, of which one 

may be active while the others are at rest. The plant and 
the animal have distinct and separate organs, of which each perforins its 
appropriate and peculiar function, which none of the others can fulfil. The 
root, the bark, the leaf, the flower, in the one, and the stomach, the heart, 
the skin, and the eye, in the other, each performs an office which is peculiar 
to itself, and which it shares with no other organ. While one of these 
organs is active, the others may be as yet uu developed or in a state of 
comparative repose. There is no evidence of such a division of the soul 
into organs. The whole soul, so far as we are conscious of its operations, 
acts in each of its functions. The identical and undivided ego is present, 
and wholly present, in every one of its conscious acts and states. W^e 
can find no part, we can infer no part, which is not called into activity 
whenever the soul acts at all. We can discover and conjecture no organs, 
of which some are at rest w^hile others are in activity. 

This peculiarity of the soul has not always been noticed as it should be ; 
Faculties often certainly it has not always been kept in mind. The so-called faculties have 
misconceived. often been conceived and described as separable organs or parts of the soul's 

substance, any one of which might act of itself — nay, one or another of 
which might be conceived as added to or superinduced upon another, giving so much en- 
larged and diverse capacity. Sometimes the faculties have been represented as acting not only 
apart from one another, but apart from the conscious soul itself; the soul being conceived 
now as an arena or show-place within which the faculties might prosecute their work or play, the 
soul being impassive and incognizant ; or now as a spectator of their doings, more or less 
indifferent or interested. These representations are all derived from the analogies furnished 
by matter and its actings ; they find no warrant in our conscious experience. The fact that 
these representations are often allowed, and that they influence the reasonings and conclu- 
sions of many philosophers, who in form reject them, is urged with great earnestness by those 
who reject the term faculty, and the corresponding conception, on the ground that the doc- 
trine and the name conflict with the soul's unity and identity. 

^ , * „ , Again, we do not find it true that the soul can onlv act with 

Each faculty does ' . . . 

notactatasepa- one of its so-called faculties at the same instant of time. 

rate time. './».' 

Some suppose, perhaps inferring from a misconstruction of 
the doctrine of the faculties, that when we know, feel, and decide, or 
when we perceive, remember, and judge, we must perform each of these 
separate acts in a definite and distinctly separable instant of time. Con- 
sciousness does not allot to each distinguishable kind of activity a separate 
interval or moment of duration, but before its eye many such distinguish- 
able kinds of activity are united in one undivided act. We might, indeed, 
conceive each of these activities to require a separate instant of time, but 
We do not find this to be true in fact. ISTot only, then, is it not true that the 



42 INTRODUCTION. § 28. 

soul is divided into separate parts or organs, but it is nc/t true that it 
cannot act variously, or with all its faculties, in the same apparently in- 
stantaneous act. 

§ 28. Thus far have we distinguished what is not true of 
like and unlike the actings of the soul and of the faculties to which these 

actings are ascribed. We ask next, What is true, and how 
far is the conception and the use of the term faculty authorized by what 
consciousness discovers or attests ? We assume that the identical ego, or 7, 
is not only distinguishable from its own states, but that each of these states 
is separated or individualized from every other, by occupying a separate 
portion of time. Each of these states is known by the soul's conscious- 
ness to be individually different from every other. But though they are 
thus separated or severed from one another, they are united by another 
relation. Among these separate acts there are many which are alike in 
certain prominent characteristics or elements. These are grouped together 
as the same in kind. They are discerned and pronounced to be similar, 
and are therefore viewed and named as the same. Others are, for another 
prominent element, gathered and named as another group. The groups 
thus gathered, each under a common likeness, are as clearly separated 
from one another, as the individuals in each are united by the likeness of 
their common element. As we look more closely, we find that these 
states are united and distinguished for the following reasons : 

First, the prominent elements are known to be alike or unlike 

Elements like ._..•_. . n __ 1 

and unlike in m the immediate experience of the soul. The person who is the 
subject of each, knows that what he calls his acts of knowl- 
edge are alike, and also that they differ from his states of feeling and of 
will, as readily and as distinctly as he knows blue from red, or green from 
violet, or hard from soft, or bitter from sweet. He does not discern them 
by the bodily eye, nor have they material qualities, nor are they dependent 
on bodily organization ; but they are as clearly different, and, if possible, 
they are more perfectly distinguished than any of these objects. For if 
the soul knows any thing, it knows its own states — not only that they are, 
and that they are its own, but also what they are in their quality. 

If consciousness can pronounce upon any thing, it can pronounce upon what is like and 
unlike in its inner experiences. These states are not its experiences only — they are very 
largely its own products, the results of that self-active and tireless energy by which the ego 
is continually passing into new conditions of being, or rather taking new forms or phases of 
action. Many of them are produced of design, the soul distinctly setting before itself what 
one of its possible states it will employ as the required means or conditions to bring them to 
pas3. Unless the soul could distinguish the quality or character of its own states, it could not 
design to produce them, either by direct or indirect agency, 

2. The elements which are the ground of the classification 
one another. ° n of the several states are not .only recognized as like or un- 
like, but each has a relation of dependence with respect to 



§ 28. THE FACULTIES OF THE SOUL. 43 

the others. Kot only is one state different from another, as a so-called 
state of knowledge, feeling, or will, but the element of knowledge is 
known to be the necessary condition of the element of feeling, and the 
element of feeling the condition of that of will. A man does not feel, 
except he knows or apprehends some object which excites feeling. He 
always feels about or with respect to something cognized. 

An apparent exception to this law is believed by some to present itself in the case oi 
sensible perception, in every instance of which it is contended that the feeling — viz., the 
bodily sensation — is the condition of the intellectual apprehension, viz., the perception. In 
all other cases, it cannot be questioned that the mind only feels when, and because, it appre- 
hends the object which excites the feeling. When it would increase or intensify an emotion, 
it applies the intellect to the appropriate object with greater energy and a more exclusive con- 
centration. When it would excite the feeling anew, it brings the object before the attentive 
iutellect a second time. When it would rid itself of an emotion, or prevent its return, it 
occupies the attention with some other objects, so as to excite an emotion that shall exclude 
or displace the first. So clearly is this dependence recognized, that all the laws of practical 
wisdom are founded upon it in respect to deliverance from or security against feelings that 
are either uncomfortable or wrong. The lower exercise of prudence and self-control, as well 
as the higher discipline of virtue and self-improvement, are both directed by the knowledge 
of the dependence of the element of feeling on the element of cognition. 

Even more than this is true. Different intellects at the same time, and the same intellect 
at different times, take different views of the same objects, or apprehend in the same object 
different qualities and relations. As these vary, so does the emotion vary ; and the same 
object occasions different feelings in the same persons at different times, and in different per- 
sons at the same time, according to the diverse judgments of the intellect. 

There is a similar dependence in the acts or states of the will. To 
choose, we must not only know, but we must also feel. If an object 
could be simply known, and excite no feeling, it could not be chosen nor 
rejected. We repeat the caution which we have before provided, that it 
is neither intended nor asserted, that each of these elements occupies or 
requires a separately definable or continuous portion of time, or that each 
should, so to speak, stand apart before the eye of consciousness. They 
may, in fact or in seeming, be blended together in a single instantaneous 
state, and yet each may be distinguished as the conditionating, or the con- 
ditionated element. 

We have, thus, a second criterion for distinguishing dhTerent kinds of 
psychical activity, as they are discerned to differ not only in their recog- 
nized subjective character, but in their exciting occasion. 

3. Each act or state of the soul is characterized and dis- 

One element pre- . . 

ponderant in tmguished by the presence and predominance of some one 
of the single elements which we have named. That is, each 
state of the soul is more conspicuously and eminently a state of knowl- 
edge, or of feeling, or of will, one of these elements being prevailing and 
predominant. It is natural and normal for the soul to blend all in one, 
and by the laws of its self-active nature, to spring at once into all these 
forms of its appropriate energy. If we conceive of it as knowing with 



44 INTRODUCTION. §29. 

out feeling, and as feeling without choosing, we conceive of it as either 
undeveloped or abnormal in its actings, and as incomplete or mutilated in 
their results. Its normal activity includes all these elements. At every 
instant of its being it should leap as by a single bound, through the com- 
pleted curve of its several capacities. Sometimes its course seems to be 
arrested ; often it seems to be detained in a single element ; most usually, 
we may almost say invariably, one only is prominent to the eye of con- 
sciousness, the other elements being scarcely noticed as present at all. We 
distinguish, remember, and name such a state by the predominating feature 
or element. We think of it and call it a state of knowledge, feeling, or 
will. We learn from it the appropriate characteristics of the fimction 
which prevails, because one element is conspicuous in this particular state. 
4. Another determining circumstance ouo\ht to be noticed. 

Elements as re- ° ° 

lated to agent, Each of the three elements which we have as yet recognized 

act, and. object. .,'-'-. -i^ii ■. 

seems to have a special relation to each of the three elements 
that are distinguishable in every act of consciousness, viz., the agent, the 
action, and the object (§ 11). In knowledge, the object seems to occupy 
the energies. In a state of aroused and concentrated attention, the object 
only is thought of, and the relation of the soul to the object is that of 
which consciousness chiefly takes notice. The soul itself, and the soul's 
activity, seem to be almost absorbed into the object observed. In feeling, 
the soul's condition is most engrossing to itself and conspicuous to others. 
In acts of will, the individual agent asserts its individuality to itself, and 
manifests it to others. The individual man shows by his Choices, or acts 
of will, what he is; i. e., what he makes of himself by the direction and 
the energy of his individual will, as well as what he can do or effect in 
overcoming obstacles and accomplishing results within the sphere of mat- 
ter or of spirit. 

8 29. These considerations prove that the several states of 

Faculty defined. .,.,,...,, ,., ,., _,. 

General author- the soul are strikingly distinguished as like or unlike. Ihe 
capacity of the soul for any one of these special kinds of 
activity we call a faculty. If it is asked, On what ground and by what 
authority ? we reply, For the same reason that we ascribe or refer any 
material effect or phenomenon to a special power as its source or cause. 
If any effect is constant, we ascribe it to a permanent power or quality in 
the material substance. One ore of iron exhibits magnetic agency, and 
produces magnetic effects. To another these are wholly wanting. To 
the one we ascribe, to the other we deny the magnetic power. On the 
same ground, if there were no other, we might interpret psychical effects 
by referring each to a Special psychical power, which we call a faculty. 

But we have higher authority for recognizing special facul- 

speciai author- t j eg j n ^ S p] iere f spirit, than for admitting determinate 

powers in the world of matter. Of material agencies we 

perceive nothing but the effects. Of the states and effects of the soul we 



§30. THE FACULTIES OF THE SOUL. 45 

are conscious that we are the producers. In the one case, we stand before 
the curtain and see the result, which we ascribe to agencies whose arrange 
inent and working we cannot directly inspect. In the other case, we are 
ourselves behind the scenes, and observe the working, if, indeed, we do 
not ourselves work the machinery. We are not merely cognizant of the 
result when it springs up in our souls — which we find in act, we know not 
whence or how — but we bring the act to pass. We know the agent, and 
distinguish it from the act. We know, also, that its acts are often attend- 
ed with effort, some with more and some with less, varying in all times to 
our conscious experience. To certain actions, issuing in certain results, we 
are prompted by no effort at all. We cannot by effort prevent ourselves 
from performing them. With these it is with eminent propriety that we 
connect the term faculty, from facilitas, as explained by Cicero : " Facili- 
tates sunt, aut quibus facilius fit, aut sine quibus aliquid confici non 
potest? — Cic. Inv., 1, 27, 41. Indeed, to say that we perform such acts 
with facility, is to say very little that expresses the fulness of our mean- 
ing. Power expresses far less, and hence we limit faculty to those of the 
powers which are original, and not acquired. To a facility acquired by 
art, or imparted by special education or discipline, we give the name power. 

This is not the place fully to discuss the question, why we refer effects in matter or in 
spirit to powers or agents as their necessary originators or conditions ; nor why we interpret 
the kind or quality of the power by or through the kind of effect or action which is produced. 
Nor can we here adjust the question, What relation has the conscious exertion of energy by 
the individual agent to the conception of power which we apply respectively to the material 
and the spiritual actor ? It is sufficient that we notice the fact, that we do apply it to both 
kinds of beings, and that we do it with the highest propriety and with the most assured confi- 
dence to the capacities of the spirit — the states of which do not come and go as clouds chase 
each other across the heavens, or as one wave pushes another along the ocean, but are known 
to be the manifestations of the energy of a self-conscious originator. 

8 30. We call the faculties thus ascertained, the human facul- 

TIigsg faculties 

common to aii ties. We do so, because certain states of the soul, and cer- 
tain elements of these states, are believed to be alike in all 
human beings. No soul is truly human in which they are not present. 
The exercise and experience of them is necessary to every perfectly consti- 
tuted and fully developed human being. They may not all be active in an 
infant of a few days old, but they are sure to become so, if the infant lives 
and nothing interferes with its normal development. 

But when we say that the soul must possess these powers in order to be 
But not in the human, we do not assert that any two human beings possess them in the same 
same proportion. p r0 p 0r ti onj or exercise them with the same energy. All men perceive, 

remember, and reason ; but all men do not perceive with the same quickness 
and accuracy, nor do all men remember with the same readiness and reach, nor do they reason 
with equal certainty and discrimination. The sensibilities of some men are obtuse, and of 
others are acute. The choices and practical impulses of men differ most of all. By these, 



46 INTKODTJCTION. § 33. 

each man is preeminently himself, sharing in no sense his individuality with any other human 
being. 

8 31. In these natural and original differences, the faculties 

The faculties not ° i i . ■ i i « , • 

independent of are not altogether independent one of another. A powerful 

one another. • -n , , -i -i -i -i • . -, . -, 

intellect, to be developed into its normal attainment, needs 
to he stimulated by strong feelings and to be held and directed by a de- 
termined will. Nature usually provides for the possibility of such a devel- 
opment, by proportioning the several endowments of the soul to one 
another. Hence, a man superior in intellect is usually superior in the 
capacity for energetic feeling and effective decisions. If there be a marked 
disproportion between any one and the others, we observe it as irregular 
and unnatural. 

Any such irregularity is sure to be manifest, and often to be strikingly conspicuous in the 
development of the powers, from the weakness and limitations of infancy up to the energy and 
comprehensiveness of adult years. The soul with a structure strikingly abnormal, cannot 
attain a healthy and shapely growth. Any striking predominance of the intellectual over the 
emotional powers, or any defect in energy of will, either prevents an even progress, or induces 
premature feebleness or a dwarfish stature. 

§ 32. This law needs to be observed in the artificial develop- 

Kelation of fac- _ , ., ., f _ _ _. . ,. , _ 

uities in educa- ment oi the sou], by special methods of discipline or plans of 
education. The whole soul must be educated in the harmony 
of its powers, or it cannot be successfully educated in any single one. The 
intellect cannot be trained to superior activity or successful achievement 
except as the feelings are stimulated to a strong interest for the objects to 
which the intellect is applied, or the ends for which it acts. The will 
must be taught to concentrate and hold the energies, and to direct them to 
harmonious and successful activity. We cannot, if we will, train a single 
power alone. When we seem to bestow all our power upon one only — as 
the intellect — in the education of ourselves or of others, we are always, in 
fact, acting upon the whole soul, in exciting new habits or kindling new 
aspirations. 

§ 33. These truths are not only of great practical importance, 
illustrate^ the ]} U t they need always to be kept in mind in psychological 

investigations, because they so strikingly illustrate the or- 
ganic unity and the eminent individuality of the soul. 

We need ever to be mindful of this. Science seeks after resemblances, and thus is con 
tinually impelled to overlook differences. Or, if science notices differences, it is the differences 
by which species are distinguished, not those by which individuals are separated. With those 
individual peculiarities which refuse to be classed with any other under some common concep- 
tion, science disdains to concern itself. All objects in Nature have in some sense an individual 
unity, which science cannot wholly master and overcome ; but the soul is more intensely and 
eminently one and individual than any other. Its oneness, and hence its individuality, is the 
most complete and conspicuous of that of any of the objects with which science has to do. 



§33. THE FACULTIES OF THE SOUL. 47 

We say a piece of iron, or any mere aggregate or mass, is 

Unity-median- , ■ . . . , -, 

icai, chemical, one, when its constituent particles or atoms are permanently 

or°"£tnic 

held together by adhesive attraction. The law of chemical 
affinity makes two unlike substances into a third unlike either, which is 
eminently one by the completeness of the interpenetration and combination, 
But even bodies thus made one can be readily made two again through 
mechanical division, without altering their nature or changing their func- 
tions. It is not so with a plant or an animal, with a few apparent but 
inconsiderable exceptions. A plant is one, so long as its several organs 
act together, and the functions of each conspire with the functions of 
every other to the common existence and the developed growth of the 
whole. The unity of the plant consists in, or rather arises from, the action 
of each of these organs with and upon every other, and the united action 
of the whole through the integrity of an undivided structure. Let this 
structure be once broken up, and usually the unity that is the life of the 
whole is destroyed. Though the parts are again united, the plant is no 
longer one / it is usually no longer a plant. The same is true, only more 
strikingly and eminently, of the living animal. The animal ceases to be 
one when its structure is divided, because the reciprocal action of its sev- 
eral organs is thereby forever rendered impossible. 

But the soul is one in a higher sense even than the plant and 
Psychical unity ^he animal are one. It has, indeed, no material structure, 

is higher. ... 

the visible and tangible bond of its material organs, each 
appropriate to one of its complex powers. But these faculties are depend- 
ent on one another by a union so intimate, that the soul cannot act with 
one except as it also acts with the others. It cannot grow in the capacity 
or energy of one except as it grows in the energy of the others. One kind 
of action is the essential condition of the other, whenever the soul mani- 
fests its developed life. But above all, the soul, in all its conscious activ- 
ity, refers these various forms of action, thus interdependent on each 
other, to one central force. It knows its unity, in a large portion of its 
direct experience. It is not more certain that it acts in various ways, each 
intimately related to another, than it is that one person, the undivided and 
self-conscious ego, acts in all these ways. This ego knows, in all its varie- 
ties of cognition, and all the variety of objects which it can apprehend. 
It also feels, as variously in the quality and intensity of this kind of sub- 
jective experience as its subjective and objective conditions allow. But 
it is by its actings in choice, or as the will, that its individuality is pre- 
eminently known to itself and by itself to be one, not only as it is en- 
dowed by nature with a separate individuality, but as it makes itself to be 
( what it is by its individual acts. 

It is true that each soul is like every other soul in those powers by which it is human. It 
is unlike every other, not only in the proportion of the faculties and attainments which are 
comparable to those minuter shadings of form and properties in tEe individual plant or animal, 



48 INTRODUCTION. § 34. 

which are beyond the reach of the classifying power, but also in the conscious and necessary 
reference of every action to the individual ego. It is preeminently one, as by its own self- 
activity it gives to each act of its voluntary and rational life a direction and energy which it 
shares with no other being and no other act of its own being. It was contended by Leibnitz, 
and with much show of reason, that of the myriads of millions of leaves in a forest, no two 
are exactly alike. We know that among the millions of human faces, each has individual 
peculiarities, a oneness that is eminently its own. But of all the human souls that are or 
shall be, each, though allied to every other by a common human nature, and obeying common 
human laws, has yet that individual oneness which is received from nature, which is the prod- 
uct of its circumstances, and, more than all, which is originated and sustained by its own indi- 
vidual energy. 

§ 34. But though the soul in these respects is peculiarly and 
exclude com- preeminently one, it is not thereby single in the sense of 

excluding a complex organization. Rather do its unity and 
individuality depend upon and require a complex organism of faculties 
and powers. We observe that, in all organisms, the more complicated is 
the structure, the more numerous the powers, and the more intimate 
their interdependence, the more conspicuous is the individuality. Just in 
proportion as the structure is complex in its organs and in the variety of 
its possible functions, just in that proportion is there the possibility of an 
unshared individuality, by means of the greater number of particulars 
in which no other single being can be like this one. 

The complexity of the soul is exemplified in the known variety of its observed modes of 
action, in the manifold conditions and objects to which it is known to be adapted, in the 
posssible variety of others for which it has latent and unused capacities, and in the conspicu- 
ous variety that is attained by different individuals, as the result of differing developments and 
various culture. The soul is complex in its attributes and organization, as shown in the variety 
of the functions of which we are directly conscious ; it is also capable of all the activities which 
are required by its connections with the living body, as it both sustains its life and develop- 
ment, and receives from it all the excitements and impressions which, known and unknown, 
are the conditions and attendants of its appropriately spiritual states. Its complex nature is 
further manifested in its capacity to cognize and be interested in so vast a variety of objects 
in nature and in all living beings, both those above and below and equal to itself. Not 
only has the soul capacities for those objects which are fitted to its original endowments, 
but these endowments, when further developed, seem to become like new capacities, and 
these are set over against their own special objects. Indeed, the very capacity for the mani- 
fold development of and increase in the power and range of an original endowment, is itself 
a striking proof that within every soul lie, as it were, unborn powers, which themselves contain 
the germs of other powers capable of being in their turn developed. The capacity for that 
great number of acquired energies, habits, and tastes which often become more than a second 
nature, itself argues a complex organism. If we consider the soul as capable of existing in 
r.ew conditions of being, and as endowed with powers appropriate to such conditions that 
a~e as yet inactive and unsuspected, we must enlarge still more widely our conception of its 
complex structure. 

But the more largely complex the soul is in the wealth of its known 
and its yet unrevealed endowments, the more strikingly is its unity illus- 
trated in the working of these endowments with one another to the pro- 



§ 35. THE FACULTIES OF THE SOUL. 49 

gressive development and increasing power of a single living being. But 
its unity is most conspicuous in the circumstance, that the being refers 
this increase of knowledge, skill, and moral capacity to itself, through its 
conscious knowing, feeling, and choosing. The dignity of the soul is 
shown by its varied adaptations to the universe of matter, life, and mind, 
and by its capacity to respond to and interpret this complex universe by its 
answering powers, and most of all, in that it can distinguish itself, as the 
one agent and patient, from all which it observes and cares for. 

§ 35. The powers of this complex yet individual soul with 
TouTtLeefoid! 16 which our science is concerned, are those only which are 

manifested in or through its conscious acts or states. All 
the other powers are left unconsidered, except so far as they incidentally 
relate to these conscious exercises or experiences. Our conscious acts or 
states are separated into the three broad and general divisions of states 
of knowledge, states of feeling, and states of will. To know, to feel, and 
to choose, are the most obviously distinguishable states of the soul. These 
are referred to three powers or faculties, which are designated as the 
intellect, the sensibility, and the will. 

This threefold division of the powers of the conscious ego is now universally adopted by 
History of the those who accept any division or doctrine of faculties. It has taken the place of the 
division into fac- twofold division which formerly prevailed, into the understanding and the will ; accord- 
ulties. ing to which the sensibility, or the soul's capacity for emotion, was included under 

the will, and the affections, as they were usually called, were regarded aa phenomena 
of the will. 

Aristotle divided the powers of the soul into the vegetative, the perceptive (including the phantasy), 
the locomotive, the impulsive or orectic (including the affectional and emotional), and the noetic. All these, 
except the noetic, are shared by the brutes. The N0D5 was divine, perhaps preexistent and imperishable. 
Cf. De Gen., et Cor. ii. 3 ; De An. iii. 5. The distinction of body, soul, and spirit, as we have already 
noticed, was nearly coincident with this, though more general, and recognized under the TLvev^a special re- 
lations to the Divine Spirit. The schoolmen retained this division, and distinguished three classes of 
souls, as follows : the vegetative, of plants, the vegetative and perceptive, of animals, the vegetative, 
perceptive and rational, of man. The two last have in common the impulsive and locomotive. 

The moderns, throwing out of their classification the powers not apprehended in consciousness, 
reduced the remainder to two : the intellectual and impulsive, or the powers of the understanding and the 
powers of the will. This classification was a long time current. 

Aristotle had recognized under the orectic, or impulsive powers— the powers of the will, which we have 
noticed — a threefold subdivision : im-Ov^ia, 0v/xo?, jSovAijo-t?. Theologians had for a long period distinguished 
the affections and the will, and zealously discussed the relations of the one to the other. Locke carefully and 
earnestly distinguished will from desire, without, however, proposing a threefold division of the powers. 
(Essay, B. II. c. 21. §§ 6, 30, 31.) Reid does substantially the same, inasmuch as he retains the received 
division in its accepted import in his Intellectual Powers, Essay I., c. 7 ; but in his Active Potters, Essay 
II., c's. 1 and 2, he limits the will to the capacity to determine or choose, excluding from it the capacity for 
both emotion and desire. Dugald Stewart {Active and Moral Powers), following Eeid, adopted a threefold 
classification without the formal nomenclature. But Dr. Thomas Brown goes backward from all, distinctly 
asserting that the will is a modification of desire, and a volition is only the strongest or prevailing desire. 
Lectures, &c. Kant subdivided the impulsive and orectic into two, viz., feeling and desire. Kritik d. 
Urtheils-Krqft, Einleitung and Anthropologic Prof. T. C Upham distinguished the power of the soul 
formally, as intellect, sensibility, and will. 

Hamilton divided the powers of the soul into the faculties of knowledge, capacities of feeling and 
powers of conation— i. e., of desire and will. Desire and will he distinguished respectively as a blind or 
fatal, and a free or deliberate tendency to act. Met. Led. XI. 

Among modern writers, Herbart and his school have made themselves conspicuous by 

Modern oppo- re j ec ting the doctrine of faculties of the soul in general, and of the intellect in particu- 

ft eSi lar, as inconsistent with the essential unity of the soul, and as self-contradictory in both 

conception and statement. But Herbart insists most earnestly that the soul possesses a 

4 



50 INTRODUCTION. § 36. 

capacity for self-assertion, and that these self-assertions vary both in Mad and degree with the conditions 
which call them forth. His doctrine is not unlike that of Leibnitz respecting monads of all classes, and 
preeminently of the conscious monads, that they represent or reflect all other objects, and that in this indi- 
vidual capacity lies their individual being. But diverse capacities for these varying self-assertions, or, in 
modern terminology, for 'reactions,' involves all that is essential, and we may add, all that is objected to 
in the doctrine of ' faculties ; ' the one being no more incompatible with the soul's unity than is the other. 

Herbart, moreover, affirms of the ideas—' Vorstellungen '—all that he denies to faculties, giving them 
the power to act and react on each other in such a variety of ways, and with independent energies, as to 
explain all the varying psychical phenomena. "While he contends most earnestly that the soul is one— a 
monad without relations to space— he makes it the arena, literally the ' show-place,' of all manner of active 
and antagonistic agents, which are evolved from its own being by the objects that excite them. 

The associational and cerebral psychologists reject the doctrine of faculties as commonly received, and 
resolve all the operations and products of the soul into the single power of association between its ideas, 
this being in their view the single function either of the soul or its ideas, and that into which all its re- 
maining powers and activities may be resolved. See the account given of these systems, §§ 41, 43. 

For Herbart's doctrine of the faculties, see his Psychologie als Wissenschaft, Konigsberg, 1824 ; also 
J. D. Morell, Introduction to Mental Philosophy, Lond., 1862. See also A. Bain, The Senses and the Intel- 
lect, Lond., 1855. Against Herbart, see Lotze, Mikrokosmus, vol. i., B. ii., c. 2, Leipzig, 1856. 

§ 36. We call these endowments of the soul, powers, facul- 
Spicily. faculty ' ti es -> capacities, with some difference of meaning and applica- 
tion for each. 
The word poioer is applied to the active properties of material objects, 
as well as to those which pertain to spirit. Originally, it was employed by 
Aristotle in contradistinction to act. Hence, power and action are always 
contrasted, and beings are always contemplated by him as cv Swdfia and 
iv Ivepyia. Force is quite as frequently used as power of material objects 
and agents, and in the collective sense the forces of nature are more fre- 
quently spoken of than its powers. When power is applied to the soul, 
it is used in a larger signification than faculty ; for by it we designate tho 
capacities which are acquired, as well as those which are original. All 
men are said to be endowed with the faculty of memory. A few are said 
to have, or to have attained to, the power of remembering with surprising 
reach and accuracy. All men have the faculty of sense-perception, but 
seamen gain the power of seeing objects at a very great distance. 

Faculty is properly limited to the endowments which are natural to 
man and universal with the race. We also limit the term by a sense of 
natural propriety to those endowments which are especially spiritual, and 
which manifest the independent and higher energy of the soul. 

Capacity signifies greater passiveness or recej:>tivity than either of the 
others. Hence it is more usually applied to that in the soul by which it does 
or can suffer, or to dormant and inert possibilities to be aroused to exertions 
of strength or skill, or to make striking advances through education andhabit. 

It is to be observed, however, that in common life, and even in philosophy, vre do not 
invariably use these terms with a technical precision or with uniform and invariable con- 
sistency. Thus we speak usually of the intellectual faculty, or the intellectual faculties — 
rarely, if ever, of the emotional faculty, or the faculty of feeling, or the voluntary faculty, or 
faculty of will. We almost invariably speak of the intellectual faculty or faculties, of the 
capacities for feeling, and of the powers or the power of will. The connection in each of 
these phrases explains the reason why each term is preferred, and suggests the shade of mean- 
iug which is appropriate to each. 



§ 38. IS PSYCHOLOGY A SCIENCE ? 51 

§ 37. The normal operations of each of these faculties are 
^omS^ 6 ' called its functions. The term is taken from the action of 

the bodily organs. From these it is transferred to organs in 
the metaphorical sense, as the c organs of government,' and the ' functions 
which they perform. In both these applications it has come to mean, 
first, the appropriate operations of each, and then the activities to which 
they are appointed, set apart, or destined. This signification is promi 
nent in the use of the term when it is applied to the activities of the 
powers of the soul. In this use it is assumed that there are activities for 
which the soul is designed — modes of operation which are destined for, or 
conduce to, the end of its being. Hence the normal or regular activities 
of these powers are called functions. 

States of the soul are often spoken of. The phrase has passed into 
current if not into technical use. Strictly interpreted, it would designate 
the more permanent or enduring, as contrasted with the more transient 
phenomena. It has come, however, to mean any condition of the soul 
whatever, whether regarded as act or product, whether as the producing 
act or the produced effect. 

Phenomenon is used as properly of spiritual as of material beings or 
agents. Literally, it means that which appears to, or is known directly by 
the senses : next in order that which is known as a fact by the mind. In 
science, it signifies more precisely that which is known aS a fact, in dis- 
tinction from its explanation by a force, principle, or law. Whether this 
explanation has or has not yet been furnished, makes no difference. What- 
ever is or is not yet explained, when viewed solely as a fact, is called a 
phenomenon. 

The English word appearance carries with it the meaning, or at least the suggestion, of 
unreality. It often means and is understood as a mere appearance, a possible illusion. No 
such signification belongs to phenomenon, and hence the term phenomenon has become estab- 
lished in psychical as well as in material science as a technical term with a determinate 
meaning. * 

IV. 

is psychology a science ? — Can there be a Science of the Human 
Soul f and what are its Principles and Methods f 

In the preceding chapters we have impliedly answered these questions. In the subsequent 
examination of consciousness they will be discussed more fully, and the nature and 
authority of psychological science will be more completely described and explained. 
Cf. §§ 89-95. It seems desirable, however, that a condensed and formal statement of 
the nature and possibility of such a science should be presented, at the beginning of our 
inquiries, in connection with the various counter-theories. 

§ 38. Our own theory may be briefly stated, thus : The facts 
choiogy ; an in- or materials with which psychology has to do are derived 

ductive science. x J °!1 ... . _^ 

from two sources — consciousness and sense-perception. Con 



52 INTRODUCTION. §38 

sciousness is the source from which these materials are directly derived, 
and it is the facts of consciousness which psychology primarily and almost 
exclusively seeks to arrange in a scientific method, and to explain by scien- 
tific principles. But, indirectly, sense-perception comes to the aid and 
support of consciousness, as physiology furnishes that knowledge of the 
functions and states of the body which prepare the objects of the sense- 
perceptions, and are the essential conditions of the development and the 
activity of the soul. The facts of this class are attested by the senses and 
interpreted by induction, and are in all respects subject to the laws and 
methods of the other sciences of matter. Both these classes of facts must 
be considered in conjunction, must be observed with attention, must be 
analyzed into their ultimate elements, must be compared, classed, and 
interpreted according to the methods which are common to it and the 
other inductive sciences. 
T r &. .So far it would seem that psychology is as truly an inductive 

Is 81S0 til 6 SCI - 

ence of indue- science as are the sciences of any other existences or classes 

tion. . .... 

of beings. It is distinguished from them by two striking 
peculiarities. The first of these is, that its subject-matter is attested by 
consciousness to be sui generis, consisting of phenomena which cannot be. 
resolved into material entities or agents, and cannot always be subjected 
to or judged by analogies furnished by material agents, phenomena, 01 
laws. The second peculiarity is, that this subject-matter is in part the 
function of knowledge itself, being the very agency by which all scientifio 
knowledge is effected, the knowledge of matter as well as the knowledge 
of the mind. This function, psychology must examine, not only in its 
various processes, and their relations to one another, but in its products, 
and their mutual dependence and relative authority (§ 57). This involves 
the analysis of the products themselves into their constituents, whether 
these constituents are gathered from experience, or are necessarily involved 
in the act of knowledge itself, and therefore derived from the nature 
of the soul as a knowing agent, and dependent upon it as their authority. 
By this peculiar feature, the science of the human soul becomes the scien- 
tific study of the principles and laws of all knowledge, and of each one of 
the sciences, and thus leads to the prima philosophia. In every other 
feature except this, psychology takes rank with the other inductive sci- 
ences, and is coordinate with them in its subjection to a common method. 
But by this last feature it becomes in a sense the arbiter of them all, as it 
tries and tests the methods and principles common to them all, itself 
included. While, then, psychology is an inductive science, with a peculiar 
subject-matter to which it points us continually, and to the source from 
which it is derived, as exempting it from the associations and preposses- 
sions with which physical philosophy would invest it, it is not merely an 
inductive science, but is, in a certain sense, the science of induction itself. 
It c ertainly leads us to examine the fundamental principles of all the sci- 



§40. IS PSYCHOLOGY A SCIENCE? 53 

ences, by sh owing that such principles exist, and demand scrutiny and 
verification. 

These views are very generally received in respect to the nature of psychology as a sci. 

gnce, and in answer to the question whether such a science is possible. The opinions of those 

who dissent from them may be classed as follows : 

§ 39. A very large number of persons deny that psychology can evef 

Psychology too become a science, because of the vagueness and uncertainty of the subject- 
vague ; not ma- . . ° . 
thematical. matter. They insist with especial earnestness upon the point that it is 

impossible to explain the processes of the soul by laws expressed in mathe 
matical formulae. They affirm that we can never go beyond certain general and obvious 
truths concerning the nature and activities of the human soul, because these activities are not 
discernible by the senses, cannot be verified by experiment and accounted for, by what they 
call scientific laws. Science, they allege, knows nothing of powers, either in matter or in 
spirit. It does not concern itself with the constituents of things, or with the essential and 
ultimate properties of matter or spirit. It has to do with phenomena only, and it seeks to 
Jearn the order and laws of their occurrence by definite statements concerning their mathe- 
matical relations. Force is measured by number ; so is the quantity of matter ; so are press- 
ure, motion, attraction, and repulsion, in short, every thing with which science, as such, has 
to do. The range of science proper, they contend, is limited within the domain where mathe- 
matical relations apply, and cannot include the facts of psychology to any effective or valu- 
able result. 

To reply to this general position is here inappropriate. It is sufficient to say, 
render a science that if this view of scientific knowledge should be accepted, it would exclude 
ble life imp0SS1 " the science of life in all its forms as truly as the science of the soul. It is 

enough that it proves too much, and therefore cannot be true. Science does 
inquire after the powers, the conditions, and causes of phenomena, as truly as it concerns 
itself with the mathematical relations of either. Besides, it is always pertinent to observe, 
that the power by which we are impelled to seek, and by which we attain scientific knowledge, 
is the only authority for our confidence in science itself. To distrust the possibility of exact 
and determinate knowledge of the conditions and laws of this power, is to distrust the author- 
ity of science. If the soul, as the agent of science, cannot itself be known in its processes 
and their results, then the processes have no value, and the products no binding force. 

This general prejudice against the possibility of attaining precise conceptions of the 
activities of the soul may be dismissed as the result of that ignorance which is intensified by 
a partial knowledge. No man is so positive in his prejudices against that of which he knows 
little, as the man who is master of a certain domain of knowledge, and therefore assumes to 
measure and judge that which he does not, by that which he does fully know. The idola 
theatri which Bacon, Nov. Org., B. L, §§ 44, 62-65, so clearly describes and so pointedly 
condemns, have exerted their influence over no class of philosophers so conspicuously as over 
the physicists of the present generation, in their judgments of the claims of psychology to be 
regarded as a science: 

§ 40. The materialists of every sort hold a very positive and consistent view 
Views of mate- of our subject. They all contend that a science of the soul is possible and 
rialists. rea ^ because the substance of the soul is material, and its phenomena can 

therefore all be explained by the laws and relations of matter. Their cardinal 
axiom is: there is nothing substantially existent in the universe except what has extension and 
sensible properties. The phenomena of the soul are therefore the manifestations or actings 
of an existence of this kind, and can be resolved by scientific methods just so far as they can 
be referred to changes in the constitution or the actings of this extended and material sub- 
stratum. We pass over the grosser and cruder theories of the ancient schools, who resolved 
the soul into some form of refined but unorganized matter, as now universally outgrown and 



54 INTRODUCTION § 41 = 

rejected : &ud notice only that form of modern materialism which passes current with so many 
scientific men. This theory makes the brain and nervous system the proper substance of the 
soul, and its phenomena to be explicable by the peculiar activity of this highly organized mate- 
rial substance. It has this in common with the materialism of the grosser sort, that it holds it 
to be impossible that there should be any agent of psychical phenomena except matter. The 
fact that the matter is organized makes no difference with this assumption, except that it 
smooths many of the difficulties and disarms many of the objections to which the cruder mate- 
rialism was exposed. 

Auguste Comte represents and describes this theory of psychological science in the following language : 
" The positive theory of the intellectual and affective functions is therefore henceforth unchangeably re- 
garded as consisting in the study, both rational and experimental, of the various phenomena of internal 
sensibility, which are proper to the cerebral ganglia, apart from their external apparatus. It therefore is 
only a simple prolongation of animal physiology properly so-called, when this is extended so as to include 
the fundamental and ultimate attributes." ' In regarding it, however, as a simple subdivision of animal 
physiology,' " we ought not to leave out of view the very close connection of this third sort of physiology 
with animal physiology as it is usually understood, from which it differs far less than this last differs from 
simple organic or vegetable physiology." Phil. Pos., Lect. 45, 3d vol., pp. 766-9. 

Herbert Spencer, though not an avowed materialist in form, shows that he is, in fact, in that he teaches 
that psychical action is only a more highly developed form of vital action, the capacity for which, in its 
turn, has been developed from a lower form of being, viz. : the unorganized. His materialism becomes 
conspicuous when he makes the & priori necessity under which he accepts necessary truths, to be itself the 
product of a tendency first acquired by frequent association ; and then augmented into an inseparable con- 
nection, which, being transmitted with increased force through many generations of material or cerebral 
organisms, reappears at last in the form of a priori knowledge. 

§ 41. The materialists of the present day are properly called Cerebral Psy- 
The cerebralist chologists, and plant themselves on the more recent discoveries of physiology 
theory. j n reS p ec t t the brain and the nervous system. These discoveries are those 

of the reflex nervous action by the agency of the afferent and efferent nerves, 
made by Sir Charles Bell : the discovery of the independent activity of the several systems of 
nerves, made by Marshall Hall; of the capacity for increased nervous energy, and the flow of a 
more effective nervous stimulus, which is induced by the repeated action of any organ, whether 
internal or external, whether muscle or brain; of the change in the substance of the brain 
attendant upon higher mental development — a change in bulk and complexity ; and, last of 
all, the discovery of the provision for the consentient or consilient action of different organs 
of the body, by the coordinating agency of the great nerve centres, which tendency can be 
greatly augmented and modified by culture and habit. These physiological facts, combined 
with the doctrine of the association of ideas, which is resolved by many into the physical coac- 
tion and coalescence of nerve movements and nerve cells, are the data or materials out of 
which the Cerebral Psychologists construct their science of the human soul. Some ccrebralists 
venture to avail themselves of the as yet partially established doctrine of the correlation of 
physical forces, in support of the conclusion that mind, or soul-energy, is but the spiritual cor- 
relate or metamorphose of so much brain or nervous energy. Many of these views are ably 
represented in the works of Professor Alexander Bain, of Aberdeen, entitled TJie Senses and 
the Intellect } and The Emotions and the Will, also, Mental, and Moral Science, etc. 

The facts and phenomena recognized by the cerebralists are true and impor- 
Their theory re- tant. The most of them should be recognized in anthropology, or the science 
futcd. which treats of the relations of the soul to the body. We may even admit 

that they all deserve to be considered among the conditions of the purely 
psychical activities. But they are only the invariable antecedents or the essential conditions of 
these phenomena, so long as the agent which performs them acts also with those which arc 
purely corporeal or vital. There is no evidence that they produce these phenomena ; they do 
not appear among the constituent elements of any psychical state or act ; they cannot be found 
in them by analysis ; they do not explain in the least the original capacity to produce them ; 



§42. IS PSYCHOLOGY A SCIENCE? 55 

they do not account for the dependence of one of these classes of states upon another, as of 
memory upon perception, or of reasoning upon both. These cerebral conditions might be sup 
posed to exist, -without the occurrence of any of the phenomena in question, without perception, 
memory, or reasoning. The nervous system might perform every one of its functions without 
a single psychical result. Its direct and reflex action might occur in every possible form ; fre- 
quent repetition might increase the flow of nervous energy in certain ' well-worn paths,' and 
the parts excited might grow in size and strength ; new combinations of nerve cells might 
secure growth to the brain, both in mass and complexity, without the occurrence of a single 
act of perception, memory, reasoning, or mental association, or without any kind of psychical 
growth or mental development — in short, without the occurrence of a single one of the phe- 
nomena which these causes are supposed to explain, and of which they are supposed to be the 
scientific equivalents. 

Moreover, these professed explanations have neither meaning nor application 
They suppose except as they suppose the mind already to possess a knowledge of psychical 
consciousness. phenomena as known by consciousness, and as connected by certain scientific 

relations which are purely psychical in their origin and authority. The cere- 
bralist talks, like every other man, of perceiving, of being conscious, of remembering, of 
induction, and of reasoning, as though he understood himself, and expects to be understood by 
others. He proposes, as problems to be explained, these phenomena as dependent on and con- 
nected with one another in the experience of human consciousness. Of these facts of con- 
sciousness he continually avails himself, to give meaning and significance to his cerebral analy- 
sis. In short, he supposes a science of the mind's inner experiences which he proposes to sup- 
plement by facts or laws of sense-observation, using the facts to be explained to interpret the 
facts which explain them. Should he attempt to use the nomenclature of his own science in 
place of that given by the science founded on consciousness, he would fail to be understood. 
The one. cannot be a substitute or an equivalent for the other. The excitement of a nervous 
organism does not and never can be made to signify the same thing, as to feel, to know, or to 
will ; its excitement a second time can never be the equivalent of to imagine, or to remem- 
ber ; the partial excitement of many nerves or nerve-products, limiting or helping one another, 
can never signify, to reason. Indeed, the very phrase cerebral psychology seems to be self- 
contradictory and self-destructive. Cerebral can relate only to the brain. Psychology would 
intimate that there is a soul which is other than the brain. Should the cerebralist reply, that 
the appellation is none of his own choosing, it might still be said in answer, that, by whatever 
name it is known, cerebralism professes to be a science of the brain and its functions, both 
vital and psychical. But a science, supposes a knowing agent, and a knowing agent is some- 
thing other than a throbbing brain ; and to know even the functions of the brain, especially 
after a scientific method, must surely be something more than for the brain to exercise a func- 
tion in respect to itself and its own functions. Such a conception is more incredible and 
inconceivable than the conception, which is so often stigmatized, of the soul as conscious of its 
own operations. A soul that is self-conscious is not so singular as a brain functionizing about 
itself and its own being. No definition of self-consciousness given by the metaphysicians can 
compare in absurdity with that which the cerebralist is compelled by the terms of his system 
to give of the knowledge which is the subject-matter of his own science. 

§ 42. The so-called phrenologists constitute a distinct branch of the cerebral 
The phrenologi- school, if, indeed, their doctrines have not been superseded by the more exact 

and comprehensive knowledge of the brain, on which the cerebralists build. 

To the claims of the phrenologists to have established a science of the soul, 
the following objections may be urged : 1. They have not proved that the protuberances of 
the brain, or the cranium, on which their science is founded, correspond to the psychical 
powers or functions which it is claimed they decisively indicate. 2. The classification of these 
very psychical powers which they adopt is illogical, inasmuch as it is chargeable with not a 



f>6 INTRODUCTION. § 43 

few cross divisions. 3. The classifications and arrangements of the whole science rest for then 
verification on the knowledge of the soul which is given by consciousness. It requires this 
knowledge to supplement its observations of the cranium. It is this knowledge which fur. 
nishes all the facts which are to be explained, and is the test of the correctness of the classifi- 
cations. Were phrenology established, it would not be a science of its own facts : it would 
serve only as a guide in the use of certain external indications as explaining the psychical 
characteristics of individuals. 

The question may properly be raised at this point, whether the brain is not 

In what sense is the organ of the soul, and whether the cerebralists are not justified in treating 
the brain the . b . __ , ' ,.«- . 

soul's organ ? it as such. We reply, that there is an important difference between asserting 

that the brain is the substance of which psychical processes are the functions, 
and the very general statement that the brain is the organ of the soul. This, when properly 
explicated, would seem of itself to imply that the brain is one substance and the soul is 
another, each having proper features and functions of its own. To say that the soul, so long 
as it exists with its present corporeal environments, uses and depends upon the brain as its 
organ of communication with the material world, and sympathizes with the physical condition 
of the brain in its capacity to act with effect, is to say no more than the truth. This depend- 
ence and sympathy may hereafter be established in a multitude of particulars which have not 
yet been discovered. The brain might itself be subdivided into special organs, and for each 
of these a separate and as yet unknown function might be ascertained. The relations of these 
organs and their functions to the powers and acts of the soul might be traced out with sur- 
prising minuteness, and still the brain would be no more nearly proved to be identical with 
the soul itself. 

§ 43. The Associational Psychology represents still another theory of the 
The Association- science of the soul. It is founded, as its name imports, upon the fact or law 
ahst theory. recognized by all psychologists, that the ideas or acts of the soul that are 

often united tend to recall one another more readily. This law is applied by 
this school to take the place of every other law or condition of psychical activity, and to 
exclude every other power or capacity. It is made to stand in the place of the so-called facul- 
ties, and even to explain the origin of all necessary and intuitive truths. The school numbers 
many adherents, among whom are conspicuous Hobbes, Hume, Hartley, Bonnet, James Mill, 
John Stuart Mill, Bain, and Herbert Spencer. Some of these are more consistent and ex- 
treme in their conclusions than others, but all may be fairly said to adopt the associationalist 
theory in its principal features. These common features are the following. They hold, 
1. That a psychical state is analogous to a change or effect in a material object as being a sim- 
ple impression, or changed condition which is simple — not complex, as is claimed by those 
who find in every such state a conscious relation to the ego. They hold, also, that it is neces- 
sarily produced by its cause, condition, or object. They deny, distinctly or impliedly, the 
truth that every state of the soul must be performed by the conscious ego, and that in many 
of these states this ego is consciously active, and in no sense passive. 2. They teach that every 
such state thus necessarily produced and passively experienced, tends to be reproduced with 
its attendants. 3. A reproduced state, unless in some way reinforced, as by similar conditions, 
of itself tends to be and is reproduced with an energy that is weaker than that of the original. 
(Cf. Hume, Bain, and Spencer.) 4. If it is often reproduced and is reinforced in every act, its 
energy is greatly increased. This increased energy is manifested subjectively by its stronger 
tendency to recur again, and the greater vividness with which the object is presented to the 
mind. Herbert Spencer has given great prominence to this doctrine in the special application 
which he makes of the repetition of acts of which we are at first distinctly and perhaps pain- 
fully conscious, and which we learn to perform with an almost mechanical readiness. He 
insists that the facility thus acquired becomes literally mechanical, and that the acts in ques- 
tion pass entirely out of the domain of consciousness, and are taken up by the passive energies, 



§43. IS PSYCHOLOGY A SCIENCE? 51 

first of the associational faculty, and then of the brain and nerve-cells. In this way the} 
become the material for propagation, through transformations of the nervous substance which 
are transmitted from one generation to another. A few physiologists who are not of this school 
account for the phenomena in question by what they call processes of ' unconscious cere* 
bration.' Every activity of the mind not occasioned by some new or original material impres- 
sion, is the action or product of this tendency to recurrent action, either weakened or strength- 
ened in whole or in part. Imagination is a weakened impression. An act of memory is a 
somewhat stronger and recurring activity, bringing up a more perfect reproduction of the past* 
Generalization is a more vigorous revival of some part of many original impressions, which 
is capable of being suggested by each of these originals or their parts, and made common to 
them all. Judgment and induction are similar experiences of partial elements of more widely 
ramified impressions. All these processes are reduced to the more vivid experiences which 
result from many similar impressions ; never to the discernment and affirmation of similarity in 
the parts of each of the objects to which they belong. Similarity itself, as the ground and 
motive to the classification and interpretation of nature, is only the result of two or more pas- 
sive impressions, and never an intelligent cognition or judgment. It is not an objective fact of 
relation knowable by the intellect, but a subjective sensation or impression more or less fre- 
quently recurring. 

The belief of necessary truths or fundamental relations, is the result of the 
Explanation of frequent conjunction of similar experiences made inseparable by repetition, 
necessary truths. ^hus, t ^ e re i a tion of causation is resolved by Hume into the customary connec- 
tion of ideas or objects. Thus, J. Stuart Mill resolves the belief in any neces- 
sary ti aths, even the simplest mathematical postulates or axioms, into " inseparable associa- 
tion," and gravely suggests that their opposites would be and appear just as axiomatic to a 
community differently trained. Thus, Herbert Spencer, in his Principles of Psychology, 
resolves our d priori convictions concerning the reality of space and time, and the relations 
which they involve (for the necessity of which, as realities, he contends, against Kant and 
Hamilton), into the invariable conjunctions which first created a persistent tendency to recur- 
rence, which tendency was fixed and confirmed forever by being propagated through countless 
generations of human beings till the inseparable association turns out to be a necessary and 
d priori truth, of which it is impossible even to conceive the negative. 

It is necessarily implied in this theory that it dispenses with what it calls the scholastic 
doctrine of separate faculties of the soul. This, indeed, is its pride and boast, that it makes 
these several faculties to be but varied forms of the single tendency or law of association. 

The fundamental defect, the irp&rov ^eOSoy, of the associational school, con- 
Error of the as>- sists in this, that it does not distinguish between those activities of the soul by 
sociationahsts. which, so to speak, objects are prepared for and presented to the soul for its 
varied activities, preeminently that of knowledge, and the activity which the 
soul performs with respect to them when so prepared and presented. An impression on the 
sensorium, even when responded to by reflex nervous activity, is not the act of knowledge by 
which the mind distinguishes the object from itself and from other objects ; nor does the tendency 
thereby created to its repetition explain the act of imagination or memory with respect to it 
when represented a second time. A similar impression, in whole or in part, is a very different 
thing from that apprehension of a whole or part as similar which is essential to generalization 
and reasoning as acts of knowledge. The constant conjunction of two ideas, as a consequent of 
which the one will always suggest the other, does not explain the relation under which the mind 
connects them in an act of judgment ; least of all the relation by which it joins them in those 
beliefs which are necessary and intuitive, as are those which concern the relations of space, 
time, causation, and design. 

It is worthy of notice, that though the associational school is plausibly successful in its 
explanations of the lower activities and products of the intellect (chiefly, however, because 



58 introduction. § 43, 

philosophers as well as critics overlook the intellectual element which belongs to them), they 
fail most signally in explaining the higher operations. J. S. Mill supplements the functions of 
the associational power in his theory of reasoning and induction by resorting to an ' expectation 
concerning the uniformity of nature,' which neither association nor induction can account for. 
Bain resorts to the emotional nature to explain belief, and Herbert Spencer must fall back 
upon the growth of two nerve-cells into one, propagated indefinitely through successive genera- 
tions, to account for d priori and necessary beliefs. 

The associational school can only explain the higher processes and products of 'the mind 
by explaining them away — by making them, under the pressure of its theory, to become some- 
thing else than what they are. Its theories and explanations are plausible, because the single 
principle on which they rest is so nearly allied to the pervasive law of attraction, which is so 
potent in mechanical and chemical philosophy. The extensive and ready favor with which they 
are received as the only truly scientific theory of the mind, is but a single example of the power 
of materialistic analogies and prepossessions in the judgment of spiritual facts and relations. 

The associational theory, though in its fundamental principle not necessarily 
Usually Mate- materialistic, has been uniformly received by the cerebralists, especially by the 

cerebralists of the modem school. The doctrine that every mental process is 

the result of the association and blending of ideas, when united with a principle 
which explains association by the conjunction of nerve-cells into nerve-growths, and the consili- 
ence of nerve activities by the increased energy of nervous stimuli, commends itself as demonstra- 
ble, reasonable, and true to all those who find in the movements and growths of the brain the sci- 
entific explanation of psychical processes. Bonnet, Hartley, Bain, and Herbert Spencer im- 
pliedly* are eminent examples of the union of both cerebralism and associationalism in the same 
scientific theory. 

That the associational psychology is not necessarily materialistic, is proved 
Theory of Her- by the theory of John Frederic Herbart concerning the science of the mind. 
b Herbart is at once a most decided, and, it might be said, an extreme and even 

bigoted spiritualist, and also as extreme an associationalist, in the consistent 
and thoroughgoing use which he makes of the law of association. No psychologist of ancient 
or*modern times is so earnest in his polemic against the faculties of the soul, none so subtle in 
his attempt to resolve all psychical phenomena whatever, by the positive and relative tension 
of ideas, whether present or absent ; i. c, whether striving to retain or to regain their footing 
within the bounds or over the threshold of consciousness. Most of all, none is so daring and 
persistent in the effort to give expression to these forces of ideas by mathematical formula?. 
His mental static and dynamic — i. e., the static and dynamic of ideas — are all computed and 
expressed by mathematical formula?. Herbart, though an extreme spiritualist, is as eminent 
an associationalist. 

The principal features of Ilerbart's psychological theory, stated without the metaphysical doctrines 
from which they are partially supplemented and derived, arc the following. The soul is not only spiritual, 
hut simple ; so simple, that it cannot he conceived of as endowed with diverse powers, or as capable of any 
internal actions, reactions, or developments. As spiritual it can hold no relations to space. It is simply 
capable of a persistency of independent life, which leads it to resist any disturbance or action from with- 
out by a series of reactions which vary according to the objects from without which provoke them. 
These reactions of the soul are ideas. The force with which they are produced is, or involves, a tendency 
to maintain their being. As the mind is disturbed and impinged by many objects, so the number of its 
reactions or tendencies to reactions, is very great, and hence the soul becomes an arena for the actions and 
interactions of these ideas, dormant or revealed. Of these reactions, the similar aid and the dissimilar 
hinder one another. Precisely here, comes into play the associational psychology, involving many of the 
inferences to which it is applied by its advocates belonging to other metaphysical schools. The doctrine 
of faculties is rejected. The conceptions of time and space as psychological products, arc the resultants oi 
many past images arranged around the present experiences as central nuclei, according to tin ir various 
degrees of vividness and faintness in a line or a superficies, the vividness and faintness being determined 
by the helps and hindrances of other states. The ego of self-consciousness is simply a complex of past 
mental experiences as recalled by memory or pictured on the imagination, that is, as helped or hindered, 



§45. IS PSYCHOLOGY A SCIENCE? 59 

more or less, by the parts and wholes of other states, and somehow made an object to a present menta. 
state. The self is a congeries of these remembered products of the mind's past activity, regarded as th« 
manifestation and measure of the soul's energy and character. ' Judgment and reasoning are accounted for 
as by the English associationalists, except that Herbart draws on his logic and metaphysics as independent 
authorities to help out and correct his psychology, instead of developing, after the manner of the English, 
his logic and metaphysics from his psychological analyses. Psychologically, Herbart is an associationalist 
in the principles of his system. His system is in part adopted by J. D. Morell, in his Introduction to 
Menial Philosophy. London, 1862. 

§ 44. The Metaphysical, or, as it is called by some, the Constructive theory of 

Metaphysical or the science, remains to be noticed. This assumes that psychology can become 
d prion Psycho- ' . . , , . • . , . . „ „ , . 

logy. a science only as it is expounded in the spirit of a system of speculative 

philosophy which is first assumed or proved to be true, and which must be 
established as true, before the study of the mind can be made truly scientific, or even before 
it can begin. There is a truth in the assumption, that every special science is only so far 
scientific as it rests upon true metaphysics. But there is an important difference between 
the correct and adjusted statement of this underlying philosophy in a perfected system, and 
the recognition of these truths in their concrete applications without the aid of such a system. 
If the metaphysics are valid and true to nature, they must be followed in the main even by 
the man who has not formulated their principles into an abstract system. One cannot easily 
deviate from them if he is earnest in his desire for truth. There is also an important difference 
between the teacher or student who is so fixed in the conviction d priori that his philosophy 
is true, as to be incapable of observing or doing justice to those facts which are not required 
or supported by it, and the one who considers and records facts as he finds them, whether 
they do or do not square with his philosophy. In psychological studies the temptation is par- 
ticularly strong to view the facts in the light of some preconceived and half-learned philoso- 
phy ; but it ought for this very reason to be more vigorously resisted. It im|n the order of 
nature that the study of metaphysics should follow after the study of the mind^ inasmuch as it 
is in the analysis of the power to know, that we are supposed first to discover what it is to 
know, and especially what are the objects and relations which are essential to science ; in other 
words, what conceptions and relations are philosophically valid as the axioms and postulates 
of scientific knowledge. 

§ 45. The philosophers of the modern German schools are, as is well known, 
Psychology of more distinguished as philosophers than as psychologists. The object of 
schools. their inquiries has been too often to construct a consistent and plausible sys- 

tem of metaphysical philosophy, rather than to discover or expound the pro- 
cesses and the laws of the human soul as given in human consciousness. Their writings 
abound in acute and valuable psychological observations of this kind, but they are generally 
incidental to their main purpose. Kant, in his Critique of Pure Reason, has given an almost 
complete system of psychology, but it is incidental to the discussion of his main inquiry, ' Are 
synthetic judgments d priori possible ? ' One does not need to read Kant with extraordinary 
care to be convinced that his psychology is constructed in the spirit of a preconceived theory, 
and that, true to nature and fact as he was, he would have done far more for psychology had 
he made it the chief object of his studies ; and yet Kant is more psychological than those of his 
successors who are usually named as the coryphaei of German philosophy. Of all these writers 
it is emphatically true that their attention has been given primarily to metaphysics, and only 
indirectly to psychology. Their disciples have, in many cases, written upon psychology 
proper, and the treatises of each are, as might be expected, composed in the spirit and service 
of the philosophy of his master. Hegel is, perhaps, the only one who professes to have con- 
structed a psychology as the legitimate outgrowth or logical product of his metaphysical 
system, and the results should serve as a decisive warning against imitation. In this system, 
the existence, the nature, the powers, the operations, and the products of the soul are all set 
forth chiefly so as to illustrate the great principle of his metaphysical system, viz., the develop 



60 INTRODUCTION. § 45, 

ment of the concept through the force of the necessary movement of thought into all tlie 
forms of existence which the universe of matter and of spirit have attained. That is to say, 
the soul is conceived to be just what it ought to be, according to the ideal of this logico- 
metaphysical system. The proof that it is such, is found in the fact that it is rational for it 
to be so, because this is provided in the dialectic process common to being and thought. 
There is little necessity that there should be any consideration of facts or phenomena. In- 
deed, facts are scarcely considered at all, but only the metaphysical relations of the psychical 
powers and processes. These scientific or necessary relations are assumed to have been pre- 
determined by the more comprehensive view which Philosophy had taken of the laws that gov- 
ern the evolution of the universe. This being fixed, all else follows of course, by a necessity 
which is both natural and logical, — the two in Hegel's system being identical. 

So far as Hegel himself is concerned, or any other philosopher who assumes to have 
attained so comprehensive a view of the system of the universe, it may be legitimate and 
natural for him to derive from it the science of the soul by a strictly logical process. But 
even his success would not compensate for the failure to notice and describe the psychical 
facts which might still further confirm and illustrate the metaphysical system which claimed to 
be universally applicable, and demonstrable from the nature of thought. If it be supposed 
that these facts were completely at his command, and that they all harmonized with his funda- 
mental philosophy, it cannot be assumed that they are equally familiar to the learner, or that 
they are known by him adequately at all. As known by him and as learned by him, they 
ought not at first to be set forth as illustrations of a philosophical system, or even as proofs 
of its truth and consistency. They should be traced and learned in the cautious and pains- 
taking way of induction, till they carried him up to the height of speculative observation 
where the philosopher stands, and from which he constructs his psychology. The beginner in 
psychology must begin with the elements, because out of these very elements he must evolve 
the system whwh he may afterward use when he attempts to construct the soul by a synthetic 
process. But he may not begin with the completed system itself, because in so doing he vio- 
lates the psychological order of acquisition, which requires every one to go from the concrete 
upward to the abstract, and to find for himself, under wise guidance, the general and remote, 
in the concrete and the near. 

To pursue the reversed order, is to weaken the certainty of knowledge, as well as to con- 
fuse and embarrass the mind of the student. Such an error of method is certain to be 
revenged on speculative philosophy itself. It opens the way for the most fantastical dogma- 
tism on the part of the teacher ; for, as soon as he is emancipated from the necessity of justi- 
fying his speculative system to the consciousness of his learners by the facts of inner expe- 
rience, he will be tempted to be positive when he is not certain, and to be fantastic when he is 
neither logical nor clear. It breeds haziness and pretension on the part of the student. In 
attempting to follow a guide who deviates from the order of nature, his steps cease to be 
confident and firm. The want of clear insight he will supply by pretension and conceit, which 
are both parent and offspring of credulity and dependence. 

No maxirn deserves to be recorded by the student of philosophy in letters more clear 
and bright than this : * The man who seeks to enter the temple of Philosophy by any other 
approach than the vestibule of psychology, can never penetrate into its inner sanctuary ; for 
psychology alone leads to and evolves philosophical truth, even though it is itself subordinate 
to philosophy. Moreover, he who attempts to construct psychology by the aid and under the 
direction of a metaphysical system, contradicts the order by which both psychology and 
philosophy are developed and acquired.' 




THE HUMAN INTELLECT: 

ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, and faculties 



A PRELIMINARY CHAPTER. 

We hare considered the soul as capable of various functions or operations, which are mani- 
fested to consciousness as psychical facts or phenomena. "We have defined the intellect 
to be the soul as endowed with and exercising the power to know. We now proceed to 
make the intellect the special object of our study. In other words, we enter upon thafi 
special division of psychology which is concerned with the capacities, operations, and 
laws of the human intellect. 

i 
§ 46. The distinctive function of the intellect being to know, 

Knowledge de- . . . r , _ _ 

fined, what is we at once inquire, ' What is it, lor the soul to know r 

Consciousness has already taught us to observe ourselves in 
the act of knowing, and to distinguish this condition from those which are 
coordinate with it, viz., the states of feeling and willing. For this con- 
scious experience there can be no substitute. No definition or description 
can convey, to him who has never known, the conception of what an act of 
knowledge is. All definitions and descriptions presuppose that the person 
to whom they are addressed can understand their import and verify their 
truth by referring to his own conscious acts. But we may not rest in this 
general assent to the reality, nor in our general impressions of the nature 
of knowledge. We require a more exact determination of its import and 
relations. 

The nearer and more attentive consideration of knowledge gives us 
the following propositions : 

1. To know, is an operation of the soul acting as the intel- 
active^ojeritio? * ect — an °P era tio n m which it is preeminently active. In 
knowing, we are not so much recipients as actors. We do 
not merely submit to the impressions which are made upon the senses or 
the mind from without. ISTor are we the passive subjects of the mechan- 
ical operations of ideas already acquired, as they come and go by an inde- 
pendent force and movement of their own, as they intrude, break upon or 
elude the memory and fancy in seeming caprice or wantonness. We do 
not generalize, reason, or believe, according as certain relations do or do 
not choose to suggest themselves. But in all states of knowledge the sou] 



62 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §46 

itself energizes or acts, in the ways or methods which are provided for by 
its original endowments. 

2. The intellect exercises its capacity to know under certain 
Snd¥tion d s 11Ilder con ditions. Like every other agent in nature, iff is limited 

in respect to the mode, energy, and results of its action, by 
the occasions and circumstances under which it acts. As fire cannot burn 
without fuel to consume, as water cannot wet without something to 
moisten ; or better, as oxygen cannot produce an oxide without some base 
with which to combine, so the intellect cannot know, unless there is some- 
thing to be known. 

Thus the intellect cannot perceive a color, a taste, a tree, a house, when these objects are 
not presented to the mind, for it to act concerning or upon. So, too, it cannot remember, 
unless an event has occurred which it may proceed to recall and recognize. Nor can it imagine 
or believe, without certain materials or data with or from which, it creates or infers. While, 
on the one hand, the intellect, in knowing, must act or operate upon, and in some sense 
create, its products, it cannot produce results at its will, but it must be governed by the 
objects which are furnished, as to what it knows and as to how it shall know them. 

The conditions enumerated are objective only. There are also conditions which are sub- 
jective, as the mind's capacity to know, which is always assumed ; its disposition for present 
activity, its bodily conditions of health and reason ; also certain favoring circumstancls, as 
absence of preoccupation; and, last of all, the direction and fixing of the attention to the so- 
called objects. 

These conditions 3. The objects which condition the acts of the intellect are 
ver^ef Subject" diverse in their character. Some are presented from the 
^t e -objecS. ° " world without : such are the objects of sense, for the exist- 
ence of which, their adaptation to the sentient organism, and their com- 
ing within the range or reach of the power to know, the soul itself may 
be in no way responsible. Others are presented from within, the soul 
creating by its own activity the very objects, and the whole of the objects, 
on which it exerts the activity of knowing : such are the operations of 
the soul itself, in the various forms and the endless variety of the states 
of knowledge, feeling, and will, all of which are apprehended, as objects, 
by consciousness. 

Other objects are the products or results of precedent acts or energies of the soul, as 
objects of sense previously perceived and waiting to be remembered ; the so-called images and 
pictures once present and seen, but now absent and unseen. There are also the conceptions or 
notions which general terms represent and recall, and which language holds ready for the 
intellect to understand and recognize: these are the contingent and necessary relations in 
objects themselves, which must be supposed really to exist, in order to be known. 

It is manifest from this enumeration that the word object is used in 
two widely divergent senses — either as the external or material object, 
the object-object, as it is often called, and which may be explained as tho 
object eminently objective; and the subject-object, %. e., the mental object, 
or the object created by the mind's own energy. The adjectives subjective 



§47. ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 63 

and objective, also, follow the widest or most generic meaning of the word 
object. Objective is applied to whatever the mind contemplates as an 
object, whether it be a subject-object or an object-object. Every relation 
which such an object holds is called objective. On the other hand, sub 
jective is applied to the knowing mind, whether it is conceived as appre- 
hending a subject-object or an object-object / a material object, as the exist- 
ing moon, or the moon pictured by the mind for the mind's eye. Sub- 
jective is also applied to all the psychical experiences and acts ; to the 
feeling and willing, as well as the knowing soul. 

8 47. 4. Inasmuch as we assume that the soul can create 

The process " 

which prepares objects for itself to know, as in the cases already referred to 

objects ol knowl- ■'.-'_•-..*' 

edge. of consciousness and memory, we ought carefully to distin- 

guish all that activity of the soul by which objects are, so to speak, pre- 
pared for the mind's cognition, from the activity consequent thereto, viz., 
the special activity of the intellect in knowing. For example, the energy 
of the soul in what is called the association of ideas — by which, on occa- 
sion of the presence of an object known, another object presents itself in 
order to be known — is clearly distinguishable from the act of the intellect 
in apprehending that object when presented. In like manner, all the ante- 
cedent preparation by which material things are made ready to be known 
through the agency of the spiritual element in the sensorium, is plainly 
diverse, and ought to be distinguished from the act of the mind in per- 
ceiving the object when thus made ready. The creative energy of the 
itntellect in the construction of mathematical conceptions, as well as in the 
'higher acts of invention and discovery, is a more interesting example of 
this peculiar power. 

These two kinds of -activity are so intimately connected, that they seem to be united and 
to blend into one. They have not been distinguished so sharply as they ought to be. By 
many writers they have not been separated at all in the analysis of knowledge. It is obvious, 
however, when the act of knowing is precisely defined, that it is properly distinguished from this 
work of preparation and the powers and operations which it involves. The advantage of thus 
separating it will occur to every one who follows its applications, or who is conversant with the 
too common want of precision in conceiving and defining the faculties and operations of the soul. 

The consideration of these acts or processes suggests the possibility of many endowments in the soul, 
which though psychical in their nature, are not fully open to consciousness. Of these there are two classes, 
(1) those by which the soul cooperates with matter, i. e., living matter, in, so to speak, providing sense- 
objects, and (2) those in which it acts by processes peculiarly psychical, as in the reproduction to imagina- 
tion and memory of states or objects previously known. The first are sometimes called psycho-physical in 
contrast with the psychical. 

We observe also, that these acts or functions of preparation, are generally, not conscious acts, in the 
sense in which the acts of knowledge are. Some of them may be wholly removed from consciousness, as is 
the activity by which the soul preserves and suggests objects once known, while yet these very acts or 
operations largely depend on the conscious operations. Some of these may be entirely removed from con- 
sciousness, as the physiological or psycho-physical operations which conditionate sense-perception. Others 
may be almost or apparently quite within the range of conscious observation, though performed with rapid 
and spontaneous exertion. 

They are all properly psychical acts, and are appropriately treated in connection with those activities 
with which consciousness has to do. We cannot understand these activities without constant reference to 
■ them. 



64 THE HUMAN - INTELLECT. §48. 

Let us then suppose that the conditions of an act of knowledge, both subjective, objective 
and psychical, are all fulfilled. We are prepared to inquire what is involved in the act of 
knowledge that supervenes. 

To know, im- § 48, 5 * ^° know, * s to ^ e certain that something is. When 
tySki? 111 " ^e conations of the act are present, the act occurs. In the 
act of knowing it is involved that the mind should be cer- 
tain that an object is. Knowledge aud being are correlative to one 
another. There must be being, in order that there may be knowledge. 
There may be being, it is true, which is not known by any created intellect, 
but there can be no knowledge, which is not the knowledge of being. It 
is of the very essence of knowledge that it apprehends or cognizes its 
object to be. Subjectively viewed, to know, involves certainty ; objec- 
tively, it requires reality. An act of knowing, in which there is no cer- 
tainty in the agent, and no reality in the object, is impossible in conception 
and in fact. 

Here we must distinguish different kinds of objects and different kinds of 

Beings or reali- reality. Objects may be psychical or material. They mav be formed bv the 

ties differ in . . , 

their kind. mmd and exist for the mind that forms them, or they may exist in fact and 

in space for all minds, and yet in each case they are equally objects. Their 

reality may be mental and internal, or material and external, but in each case it is equally a 

reality. The thought that darts into the fancy and is gone as soon, the illusion that crosses 

the brain of the lunatic, the vision that frightens the ghost-seer, the spectrum which the 

camera paints on the screen, the -reddened landscape seen through a colored lens, the yellow 

objects which the jaundiced vision cannot avoid beholding, each as really exists as does the 

matter of the solid earth or the eternal forces of the cosmical system. 

The existence of one of these objects is not of the same kind with that of the other ; 
their reality is not precisely the same, but they are equally existent objects, and, so far as 
known, are known really to be. 

It is true, one kind of existence and reality is not as important to us as is the other ; we 
dignify one class as real, and call the other unreal. We make one kind of knowledge to indi- 
cate another. We strive to look through the shows of fancy and the illusions of sense to the 
reality of things. We call some of these objects realities, and others shadows and unreal ; 
but, philosophically speaking, and so far as the act of knowledge is concerned, they are alike 
real and are alike known to be. 

The word being is sometimes contrasted with phenomenon. It is obvious that in that case 
it is not used in the sense in which we have defined it ; i. e., as equivalent to a knowable 
object. When used in such a contrast, we oppose real, permanant, or independent being, to 
phenomenal, transient, or dependent being. Being, as we use it, is generic, admitting the two 
species of real and phenomenal being, in the senses explained and contrasted. 

We often err in making one kind of reality indicate another. We mistake one kind of 
existence for another. We confound mental fancies with material things. We think an air- 
drawn dagger will pierce us to the heart. We believe that the spirit which our distracted 
phantasy conjures into being, has veritable flesh and bones. But mistakes like these, so far 
from proving that what we know has no existence, demonstrate precisely the opposite. For 
how could wc mistake one object for another, if the first object did not exist and were not 
known to be ? 

Wc do not err in not knowing something, but in mistaking it for something which it ia 
not. We do not err as to that the being is, but as to what it is.. We do not err as to its 



§49 ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 65 

beingness or entity, but as to its relations. When being is used in this generic sense, truth and 
error are only possible with respect to relations, as explained hereafter. 

This point being established, we observe : 

8 49. 6. In knowing, we apprehend not only that objects 

Also the reality 8 . , , °1 . . . , J . . 

of their reia- exist, but also that they exist m certain relations to other 
objects, one or more. Hence it is essential to the definition 
of knowledge not only that we know objects as existing, but that we 
know them as related. We cannot know even two thought-objects as 
being, without also knowing that the one is not the other. We cannot 
notice two leaves, without knowing that they are alike or unlike in form, 
surface, or color. We cannot observe two occurrences without referring 
them to the same or different causes, etc., etc. The variety of relations is 
too great to be enumerated here. We desire only to call attention to the 
general truth, that a relation is discerned in every act of knowledge. 

To this assertion several objections may arise. It may be admitted that we 
discern relations in many acts of knowledge, but not in all. Least of all, 
it may be contended, does it enter into the conception of knowledge that we 
should know some relation. It may be urged that the logicians distinguish 
simple-apprehension from judgment — simple-apprehension being defined as the cognition of 
an object, and judgment as the pronouncing that one object is in some relation to another. To 
this it is sufficient to say, that these same logicians usually distinguish the objects of simple- 
apprehension into complex and incomplex, the one being one or many objects as apprehended 
without, and the other the same as apprehended with, or in some relation ; showing by their 
very definition that simple-apprehension sometimes admits relations. 

It may be urged still further, that many psychologists have distinguished knowledge as 
perception, consciousnesss, memory, and imagination, on the one hand, and as judgment or 
thought on the other ; the first class of acts giving being of different kinds, or the matter of 
knowledge, and the second class giving its forms or relations. 

On the other hand the most acute and discerning have not failed to see and to confess 
The truth ad- that judgment, even though it is distinguished from the lower kinds of knowledge, must 
mitted directly accompany them all. Dr. Thomas Reid observes, " In persons come to years of under- 
and indirectly. standing, judgment necessarily accompanies all sensation, perception by the senses, con- 
sciousness and memory, but not conception." This denial of judgment to conception 
[the simple-apprehension of the logician-] is qualified by Sir William Hamilton in a foot-note, thus : " In so 
tar as there can be consciousness, there must be judgment."— Hamilton's ed. of Eeid'sWorJcs, p. 414. Reid ob- 
serves again: "The first operation [simple-apprehension] maybe exercised without the other two [viz. judg- 
ment and reasoning]. It is on that account called simple-apprehension, that is apprehension unaccompanied 
with any judgment about the thing apprehended." Upon this Hamilton remarks in another foot-note : 
" This is not correct ; apprehension is as impossible without judgment as judgment is impossible without ap- 
prehension. The apprehension of a thing or notion is only realized in the mental affirmation that the 
concept ideally exists, and this affirmation is a judgment. In fact all consciousness supposes a judgment, a»< 
all consciousness supposes a discrimination."— Ham. Eeid, p. 213. And yet Hamilton, notwithstanding the 
subtlety of these criticisms, and the frequency of the concessions which they contain, when he comes to define 
the Elaborative Faculty, Met. Lectures, 20, expressly calls it the Faculty of Relations, committing precisely 
the same oversight into which Reid had fallen with respect to judgment, both in the conception and the def- 
inition of the faculty. Even Kant himself, who would seem to remand all knowledge of relations to the 
understanding, and deny it to sense and consciousness, yet concedes that these two last have their necessary 
forms of space, time, and self,— space and time being the forms of the sensitivity, and the synthetic unity 
of apperception being acknowledged in every act of actual knowledge. But these forms involve relation! 
of time and space when applied to the objects known. 
5 



66 THE HUM AX INTELLECT. §49. 

It may also be urged that, although it may be true that whenever two objects 
No objects -with- are known by a single act, they must be known in relation, yet it is not so 
out relations. w } ien the object is single. Of this we observe, that it is impossible that an 
object should be known singly and apart from every other. A single object 
must be known by some agent, and it cannot be known by that agent unless the object is dis- 
tinguished from the agent, and from his act in knowing : but to be distinguished is to be appre- 
hended in the relation of diversity. The attention, it is true, may not be strongly fixed on the 
relation — it may seem to be engrossed by the object ; but the diversity cannot be unknown. 

But there is scarcely such a thing supposable as a single object. There is absolutely no 
such thing actually existent in the world of matter or of mind. Every object or event so- 
called in nature, every single state of mind, will be acknowledged, when thought of, to be 
complex, and to resolve itself before the attentive eye into many separable elements existing 
in relations to each other, and held together as one thing by the cementing force of these 
bonds. An apple, an orange, a pebble, nay, even a grain of sand, consists of parts not a few, 
united into one perceived whole. A mental state, however simple, is in its essential 
nature complex, to say nothing of the special relations of time and quality which distinguish it, 
from every other. 

Besides, the so-called single objects, though complex in reality, are rarely, if ever, known 
or thought of apart from one another. They are almost universally known in some compan- 
ionship involving a relation. 

"When, it is said that in every act of knowledge we not only apprehend that objects exist, hut that they 
exist in some relation, it is not intended that the objects are first known to be, and afterwards known in 
their relations, but rather that when they are known to be, they are also known as related. 

Least of all is it true that objects are first known apart, and then are brought together 
Existence not j n or a er that they may be discerned as related. Nothing can be farther from the truth.— 
known before or _, , . , . . ; . _ , ...,,...• . ., , 

apart from rela- ^ke object given is always complex. On knowing it, we look at it apart or in its ele- 

tions. ments, and at the same time view or combine these elements together. The bringing 

together is involved in the taking apart. The discerning the parts is connected with 
uniting into a whole. Thus, in the example already given of a mental state, we find it to be complex in 
the two-fold relation which the operation bears to the agent and the object. ¥e do not find these related 
elements apart, but bound together in the one mental activity. "We do not bring them together, but they 
are together, when we separate and afterwards re-unite them. Again, we find apart or separate in nature, 
a hundred men, and we unite them into one as a group or line. We both separate in thought what nature 
unites in fact, and unite in thought what nature in fact divides. 

If knowledge in its very nature involves the apprehension of beings as related, or of beings in their 
relations, it does not follow that all knowledge must be what is called relative knowledge. Relative, as 
contrasted with absolute knowledge, means something very different from the knowledge of beings and their 
relations, or even the knowledge of the relations of beings. Absolute knowledge is consistent with the 
knowledge of the relations, or rather it is a complete and independent knowledge of all possible and real 
relations. §§ 688, 696. 

But what is a relation ? It is natural to ask this question, and it may be said that an 
answer is needed in order that we may understand what it is to know. "We answer, The term 
is one of the most generic or abstract terms of the language, and, like being, is incapable of a 
definition by a term more generic than itself. It can only be made intelligible by examples of 
relations in the concrete. Etymologically, it carries us back, for its origin, to the act of refer- 
ring, or carrying back. To refer, is to connect in thought — to know or think two objects as 
united together. From the act of referring, the word passed over to the effect wrought by the 
act, to the union effected. From this signification the transition is natural to another — to that 
common something in the two objects by which the mind can view them as connected into 
one. This is sometimes called the fundamentum rclationis. (Cf. Hamilton, Metaphysics, App, 
v. e ; also Mill, Logic, B. i. c. iii. § 10.) 

To determine what a relation is, we must consult the power of knowledge itself, as it is 
manifested in its acts and products. This question is closely connected with other inquiries ; 
as, How many original relations, or fundamental rela'ionis, arc there, and how arc these 



§ 51. ITS FUNCTIONS, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 67 

applied ? To answer all these inquiries, we must ask subjectively, What are the several rela. 
tions under which the mind connects the objects which it knows ? and objectively, What are 
the bonds under which they are connected when united by the mind's activity ? The intellect 
itself answers our questions by actually connecting objects in these various ways. To ask, 
What is it to know ? is to ask what the mind does when it knows. If we find that, whenever 
it performs this act, it originates these relations and applies them to beings or objects, we have 
received the only answer to our question which we can possibly receive, or which we can rea- 
sonably expect or desire. 

Eiowiedge of § 50 - ^' ^° kn°w? involves two comprehensive acts, each 
Analysis r ™ni °^ which corresponds to the other — the act of separation, 
synthesis. or re solving objects as wholes into other objects which com- 

pose them as parts, and the act of uniting or combining the parts into their 
wholes. These acts are technically termed analysis and synthesis, and 
they are present in every form and variety of knowledge. 

In analysis the mind apprehends separate beings or entities. In 
sy?ithesis it connects them by some relation. Analysis and synthesis 
accompany one another in almost every act of knowledge. In sense- 
perception the different parts of material objects and the objects them- 
selves, are first distinguished and then united under relations of space and 
time. In consciousness, they are connected as coexistent, successive, or 
produced by the active ego. In imagination they are separated and reunited 
under these and additional relations. In thought, or intelligence, they are 
again divided, to be re-combined as- constituents of general notions or con- 
ceptions, of judgments, arguments, inferences, and systems. Thought, too, 
tends from lower and narrower unities to those which are higher and 
broader, bringing, if it may, all knowledge into the unity of common 
properties, powers, laws, and ends. 

objects and re- § 51, 8 * "^e °^j ects which the mind cognizes, and the rela- 
tions different tions under which they are known, are diverse in kind as 

and numerous. J ' 

well as numerous in quantity. There are objects mental and 
objects material, and also the constituent elements of each. Among mate- 
rial objects, there are the countless varieties of things, and their manifold 
sensible elements or qualities. Among mental objects, there are different 
spiritual states, as knowing, feeling, and willing, with all their possible 
subordinate varieties. Of relations, there are relations of diversity, of 
similarity, of number, of time, of space, of cause, of design, etc., etc. 
This variety of objects and relations is discerned by the mind's own 
power to know ; and the capacity directly to discern these original differ- 
ences in both objects and relations is an original and necessary property 
of the faculty of knowledge. 

To these propositions almost every person will at first give unquestioning assent. On 
second thought, the question might arise whether beingness must not be the same in every 
thing known ; and, if so, how can it be possible that, so far as these are beings, there shou!d 
be different kinds of beings ? This question may be answered by another, whether relatioa 



68 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §52 

ship, or relatableness, is not the same thing, so far as it is and is known ? and, if so, how is it 
possible that there should be several kinds of it ? It should not be forgotten nor overlooked 
that both conceptions are generic, and denote abstract^ which admit, in the concrete, diversity 
of kinds or species. (Cf. § 391.) 

m 8 52. 9. The process or act of knowledge is complete when 

When is the pro- f . r ° * 

cess of knowi- it is matured into a product, and the product itseli becomes 

edge complete I . . . 

an object to the mind's future knowing. Sometimes the 
whole of a mental state becomes such a product ; at other times some one 
element of a single mental state is detached from the act that produced it, 
and becomes endowed, so to speak, with a separate life. This product, so 
far as it exists, exists as a mental transcript or representation of the origi- 
nal, whether that original were a subject-object or an object-object, and is 
capable of being recalled, and of itself recalling the original, whether ii 
were material or spiritual. 

The term product must of course be interpreted by the nature of the producing act. The 
producing act is, as has been already defined, an act or operation of apprehending being, in a 
relation or in relations. When a being or object — one or more — is so apprehended as to be 
recalled, then does it become a product or an acquisition in the sense intended. The product 
of the knowing operation is an object as known to be. That a certain energy of the operation 
is essential to this consequence or effect, is attested by experience. How it is possible to sep 
arate a part of a mental state so as to make of this, and this alone, a retainable or represent 
able product, will be explained hereafter. 

The power of producing such reproducible and permanent results is 
essential to the perfection and the utility of the act of knowing. It is so 
essential, that upon it depend the simplest acts of the memory and the 
imagination, without which the mind would be limited to the transient 
present, and could neither gather instruction from the past, nor apply wis- 
dom to the future. The higher processes by which man explains the pow- 
ers and laws of nature would otherwise be impossible, and the capacity 
to use these powers and to apply these laws in any practical service would 
be excluded altogether. 

The knowledge which is thus separated from the original activity is 
called representative knowledge, with reference to the original act of 
acquiring, and mediate or represented knowledge, with reference to the 
original objects known. The objects thus provided are called acquired or 
positive knowledge. The power to acquire, i. e. so to know as to provide 
such objects, is clearly distinguishable in thought from the power to know. 
In fact, the power to acquire, depends on the perfection anil energy with 
which we know. 

In all activity, it is not easy to separate, hy relations of time or by conscious notice, the producing act 
from the produced effect. The doing becomes a deed, the causation an. effect, by transitions, the lines and 
shadings of which cannot be always sharply drawn. This is preeminently true of all mental activity and 
production. We need not be embarrassed by this plain fact of experience, or by the distinctions which it 
involves. We are conscious that we perceive a picture or a countenance. Wo are as well aware that w« 
afterwards recall what we have seen. That which we recall, is the product of our intellectual activity. 



§54. ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 69 

The analysis of the product enables us to understand and explain the elements and agencies whicl 
make up the process. The product is enshrined in language, and made visible and tangible in action 
Very often its existence is forced upon the attention by its prominence in the sciences, the arts, the faiths 
and manners of the race. Hence the study of all these is often a most important aid to psychology. 

8 53. 10. The same act of knowledge, with similar objective 

The act diverse ° ,. . _ „-./., , 

in its energy, condition s, may be performed with greater or less energy 

attention. ■„-'•. , ■ • . * ■, . . 

ihis greater or less energy in the operation of knowmg is 
called attention ; which word, as its etymology suggests, is another term 
for tension or effort, and was doubtless first transferred to the spiritual 
operation from the strained condition of the part or whole of the bodily 
organism, which accompanies or follows such effort. This effort is mani- 
fested in the more or less exclusive and complete occupation of the know- 
ing power by the object or relation that is to be known. This greater or 
less effort of attention is followed by the greater or less distinctness, vivid- 
ness, and completeness in the objects apprehended, and in the objects 
retained among the mind's permanent possessions, as also by a greater or 
less facility in exercising a similar activity a second time. 

This energy of attention may be directed sometimes to more and sometimes to fewer of 
the parts of an object, or of the constituting elements of a mental state. For example, when 
I look at a house, a horse, or a tree, I may be so absorbed with the color as to neglect the 
form and dimensions of each ; or my attention may be equally divided between form, dimen- 
sions, and color ; or I may be so occupied with a part or the whole of the material object, as 
to neglect my own subjective condition, whether psychical or corporeal ; or (as rarely happens) 
I may bestow my attention equally on both conjoined. The part or the whole which is thus 
attended to, is more likely to be separated from its accompaniments and retained for future use. 

§ 54. 11. Some beings and relations are discerned by the 

Borne objects . , . , „ , , _ . . J 

more easily dis - mind with far greater ease than others. To know, is, as has 
ers. been stated already, an act of an individual being, and an 

act which admits greater or less energy of attention. Now, to hold the 
mind to certain classes of objects and relations, is comparatively easy, 
requires little or no exertion, and is accomplished with spontaneous facility. 
To know so as to master an unfamiliar object, always involves effort at the 
first ; and a ready facility can only be attained by frequent repetition. 

Why or how this is so, we need not here explain. The causes are partly logical, partly 
psychological ; i. e., partly explicable by the nature and mutual relations of the objects known, 
and partly explicable by the emotional or active susceptibilities. The greater ease or difficulty of 
applying the attention to different classes of objects, and for this reason, of knowing them with 
more or less complete success, can be very largely accounted for by the circumstance, that the 
appetites, desires, etc., render possible a greater or less interest in these diverse objects. But 
why a greater or less interest should be spontaneously awakened in one rather than in another 
in its turn, can only be explained by the ordinances of nature and the constitution of man. 
The fact is known by universal experience, and is attested by universal observation. It is 
natural, and soon becomes easy to all men to attend to material objects, up to a certain degree 
of minuteness. It is comparatively difficult and unnatural to consider closely the experiences 
and processes of the soul. It is easy to decide upon the comparative length and breadth of 
two corporeal objects. It is not so easy to apprehend the parts and relations of a mathemat 



70 THE HUMAN" INTELLECT. § 56 

ical theorem or of a logical argument. The easier and more natural processes are performed 
by all men. The more difficult and less natural are reserved for the few. For facility in the 
one, that education which nature furnishes to all, is amply sufficient. For skill and readiness iD 
the other, special discipline and culture, literally great pains-taking, are requisite. 

intellectual de- § 55, 12, ^is g enera ^ ^ act or ^ aw of tne intellectual consti- 
^choiSica^or- tut i° n explains the nature of intellectical development and 
der - the possibility of intellectual growth. The easier and spon- 

taneous processes are first performed, and are therefore the earliest per- 
fected and matured. The more difficult and artificial are exercised next ,in 
order ; and readiness and skill in using them is reached at a later period. 
The powers of sense and outward observation are first developed, next 
those of memory and imagination, and last of all, those of reflection, 
thought, and reason. 

As it is with the intellectual processes, so is it with their products. 
We have seen how the products are related to the processes ; that as the 
mental processes are employed and perfected with energetic attention, so 
the mental products are evolved in completed perfection, as naturally and 
as certainly as the ripe fruit or perfected seed drops from the plant or tree 
which has rightly elaborated its secret processes. It follows, that, as the 
powers have to each other a relation of natural succession and of neces- 
sary evolution, so their products are related in an order of mutual depend- 
ence and connection, one looking back and the other forward. Objects of 
the memory and the imagination have no meaning and no reality, except 
as they presuppose and require objects of sense and consciousness. Gen- 
eral conceptions and universal truths have no import except as they can be 
applied to, and be illustrated by, individual beings or events, as observed, 
remembered, and imagined. In this way there comes to be an organic 
connection among the products of the intellect, corresponding to the 
organic relations of the several processes out of which they grow. This 
relation, as it depends on the development of the soul itself, is called 
psychological ; as it implies antecedence and subsequence of time, it is 
called chronological. Both these terms are indifferently applied to the 
subjective processes and the objective results ; but as the former is promi 
nent to the attention, it is more frequently used. 

Theio icaireia- § 56# 13, Besides the psychological or chronological rela- 
tion of processes tion of the powers and products to one another, there is still 

and products. .... . . 

another, which is more important and fundamental, and that 
is their philosophical or logical relation. 

We use one kind of knowing to supplement another, and often not 
only to assist and supplement, but even to correct its operations and 
results. Thus we reason to conclusions which we cannot observe by the 
senses or experience in consciousness. We infer results which we cannot 
try by experiment, and Ave predict them before it is time for them to occur. 
We correct rash conclusions, by looking at principles and laws. We deny 



§57. ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 71 

assertions, however confident, by employing arguments. We question so* 
called facts because they do not square with an established theory. 

§ 57. We set up a broad distinction between two kinds of 
pMio?ophic a r n knowledge, calling the one empirical and the other philo- 
sophical, the one, knowledge by observation, and the other, 
knowledge by principles or reasons. We should remember, when we 
make this distinction, that in the two there is but one and the same mind 
which knows ; that the same intellect observes and reasons upon the same 
subject-matter. It follows that the same mind uses two ways or processes 
of knowing, and that these assist and correct each other. There must, 
then, be a relation of dependence between the two. The one must be 
subject to the other, in the mind's own judgment, and according to the 
ordinances of the mind's own constitution. In other words, the mind that 
observes, knows that, by thinking, it can correct and aid its own observ- 
ing, and that the one method of knowing has a certain authority over the 
other. Not that the one can take place without the other, or that the one 
can take place so as to dispense with the other. This is contradicted by 
the facts of the mind's own development. It is refuted by the psycho- 
logical relation of the two processes which we have just considered. But 
while one is psychologically necessary to the other, and involved in the 
other, the one is subordinated to the other in importance and trustwor- 
thiness. 

Thus, when we analyze a substance, we determine the qualities that are common to its 
class, and so are enabled to define a general conception, by resolving it into its constituent or 
necessary elements. We account for or explain a phenomenon which we observe, or a fact 
of which we hear, by referring to the causes or forces by which it was produced ; and these very 
causes or forces we interpret still further by the laws according to which they act ; or we round 
off and complete the explanation by stating the adaptations to an end or assumed design. 

In all these cases we assume that, to know by generalizing, by classifying, by defining, 
and by assigning causes and laws, is a more complete, a more satisfying, and a more trust- 
worthy method of knowing, than to know by observation, by memory, or by testimony. 

As there is an organic relation between these two methods of know- 
ing, there is a corresponding relation between their products. This is the 
relation of logical dependence or of rational connection. One conception 
is subordinate to another, as a species to a genus ; or one is a property or 
attribute of another, as a quality of a substance ; or one is contained in 
another, as an element in its definition ; or is given as a reason for another, 
as a proof for an assertion, a premise for a conclusion, a datum for an 
induction, or a means to an end. Many conceptions and truths are also 
capable of being united in mutual relations of classification and explana- 
tion, as constituents of a system. All these are examples of logical rela- 
tions in mental products. 

The logical relations of the products grow out of the philosophical dependence of the 
processes -from which the products are evolved. But inasmuch as the products are expressed 



72 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 59 

in language, and are made objective to the mind, their logical and objective relations are more 
striking and prominent than the subordination of the acts of knowledge to one another when 
psychologically considered. In other words, the authority of logical or philosophical concep- 
tions and relations is in the last analysis to be found in the constitution of the rational as con- 
trasted with the empirical faculties. But there is this peculiarity in the rational faculty, that it 
asserts for itself intellectual authority over the lower powers, by asserting for its products, the 
place of criteria, rules, reasons, and principles for the products of the lower. Hence the 
objective or logical relations are more conspicuous than the psychological and subjective. 

The question has been much discussed, whether one kind of knowledge can be made the 
judge over another, and especially whether one species — the rational — can be applied or sub- 
stituted for the empirical, or observing ; whether, for example, we ought to be obliged to give 
reasons for trusting our sense-perceptions or our acts of memory. We have already said that 
this would be impossible if it were required; because, in order to reason, we must first (i. e. y 
by psychological necessity) perceive and remember. But we may confirm our sense-percep- 
tions and memories by logical, or philosophical grounds. It is to be observed, however, that 
what we confirm or overthrow in the sense-perception or memory is not the empirical, but the 
logical element ; not the observation, but the inference ; not the being, but the inferred rela- 
tion ; not that something is, but the what or the how or the why it is. 

8 58. 14. The psychological and logical order do not always 

These relations 

do not always agree. The order of intellectual growth and of psycho- 
logical development does not coincide with the order of 
logical dependence and of philosophical arrangement. That which is last 
in actual attainment, is first in logical importance. The truths and rela- 
tions which the mind is the latest and the slowest to develop and assent 
to, may be those which are fundamental to its philosophical system. The 
propositions which are found as the results of its severest toil and the 
fruits of its highest discipline, when found, are made the principles, the 
starting-points, the beginnings of its reasonings and its investigations. 
Hence it may be taken as a maxim, that what is psychologically last, is 
first in logic and in reason. 

§ 59. 15. When the mind has attained the command of its 
of h knowiedS age n ig ner faculties, and developed the familiar principles and 
rules which they assume, it applies them to a double use, of 
explaining and testing its lower faculties and knowledges, and of trying 
and judging the power of thought itself. Its final act is to apply them 
in judging the mind itself, and preeminently its higher powers, for the 
purpose of testing their trustworthiness and examining their authority. 
It challenges the thinking power, asking' what are the laws of its acting, 
and what the authority of its results. It inquires what are the principles 
which it assumes, the relations which are ultimate and unquestioned as 
the objects and means of its knowing. After questioning every other 
agent in the universe, and judging of its workings, it turns its scrutiny in 
upon itself, to test the processes by which it knows, and even the very 
rules and principles which it imposes upon every thing besides, and even 
upon itself. 

This is the critical or the speculative stage of the soul's development 



§60. ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 73 

When it has reached this stage of its history, it has completed the circle 
of activity for which its constitution provides. It has performed everj- 
variety of operation or function which is possible to a knowing being. 

§ 60. The consideration of the three orders of progress which have beer 
Order of intel- ,.",.', -, ., ^ , . , . ., , , . •, , 

lectual devel- explained in the acts and products of the mind, viz., the psychological, the 

gro^h 11 * and logical, and the critical, enables us to trace more satisfactorily the growth of 
the mind through the stages of its normal and complete development. This 
development begins to be made manifest with the beginnings of attention. Before this, it? 
activities are, as it were, rudimental only. There is the feeble and confused experience of 
pleasurable and painful sensations, blind instincts impelling to movements as aimless ; but no 
definite experience of good or evil, and no distinct knowledge even of the simplest objeets. 
Of this state, memory preserves no recollection, and concerning it, imagination has no materials 
out of which to shape an image or conception. From this condition the mind awakes when 
some object attracts and holds its attention. The infant's power to know begins to be devel- 
oped when it begins to attend. The idiot is awakened from its imbruted life by the patient 
appliances which invention, stimulated by love, employs to fix the eye and hold the mind. As 
soon as the idiot and the infant begin to notice, the vacant countenance for the first time 
assumes the expression of intelligence, and is lighted with the gleaming dawn of intellectual 
activity. Attention gives discrimination, and discrimination implies objects discriminated. 
The first objects distinguished are objects of sense. It is in the physical world that the soul 
lives for the earliest years of its activity ; it is with this world that it is occupied and absorbed. 
The sensible objects that are first mastered are those which relate to its wants, and generally, 
so far only as they are related to these wants ; first its appetites, then its affections and desires. 
With the discernment of these objects, in their relation to these sensibilities and desires, 
begins also the direction of the active powers by intelligence. The sensations and feelings are 
referred to definite objects, they are restrained by discipline and habit, they are fixed upon one 
or another as an aim or goal of effort. The will must also come in, to elevate or degrade the 
affections in their moral life. 

But though the attention is at first chiefly occupied with sensible objects, and these promi- 
nently in their relations to the sensibilities and the practical wants, it is not wholly neglectful of 
the psychical operations and the psychical self. At a very early period the body is distinguished 
from the material world of which it forms a part, and the soul begins to be apprehended as 
diverse from the body, as soon as the purely psychical emotions, as the love of power and sym- 
pathy, or the irascible passions, are vividly experienced. Though the phenomena of con- 
sciousness, as distinguished from the phenomena of sense, are not so distinctly attended to as 
to be separately named or familiarly spoken of, yet a real apprehension of the soul as a special 
energy, capable of various psychical activities and the source of most important experiences, 
must very early be combined with the more forcibly discriminated apprehensions of sense. 

As fast as the attention masters distinct objects, it must separate them into separable ideas 
or images, which are henceforth at the service of the imagination and the memory. These 
reappear in the occasional dream-life that begins to disturb what was hitherto the animal sleep 
of the infant. Memory begins to recall past experiences of knowledge and feeling. Recog- 
nition finds old and familiar acquaintances in the objects seen a second time. At a later 
period, imagination begins to imitate the actions and occupations of older persons, and fur- 
nishes endless and varied playwork for childhood, in the busy constructions of the never- 
wearied fancy ; while it irradiates the emotional life with perpetual and inextinguishable sun. 
shine. 

Slowly, the rudiments of thinking, or the rational processes, begin to be learned and prac- 
tised. The attention not only discriminates, but compares. As it compares, it discerns like- 
nesses and differences in qualities and relations. These, it thinks apart from the individual 



74 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 61. 

objects to which they pertain. It groups and arranges, under the general conceptions thus 
formed, the individuals and species to which they belong. To these activities language fur- 
nishes its stimulus and lends its aid. Inasmuch as there can be but a limited language without 
generalization, the infant or child is forced to think, by the multitude of words which catch its 
ear and force themselves upon its attention ; each representing the previous thinking of other 
men, and even of other generations. But generalization is at best but a slow process, and the 
mind at first does as little as it can, entering into the meaning of words only just deeply 
enough to use them as instruments of its convenience or pleasure, and classifying and arrang- 
ing the objects of matter and of spirit only so far as is requisite for its immediate purposes. 

With classifying, are intimately allied the higher acts of tracing effects to causes and illus- 
trating causes by effects. Then, inductions are made by interpreting similar qualities and 
causes, as exhibited in experience and elicited by experiments. The mind becomes possessed 
of principles and rules, which it applies in deductions both to prove and explain. The powers 
and forces of matter and spirit begin to be discerned, as the result of induction and deduction 
combined. The relations of these powers to their conditions, and to one another, as well as to 
motion, time, and space, begin to be fixed and definitely stated, and the laws of matter and of 
spirit are ascertained in a wider or more limited range and application. Science arranges all 
beings and all events into the order of completed systems, by means of all the processes of 
thought ; and the whole world of nature is recast into a new spiritual structure, under the rela- 
tions by which thought decomposes and recombines its individual beings and events, as pre- 
sented to observation under the relations of space and time. Moreover, adaptation and design 
axe seen to shoot golden threads of light and order through the warp and woof of that other- 
wise pale and lifeless system of nature, which science reconstructs out of blind forces and fixed 
mechanical laws. The originating and intelligent intellect of the Eternal Creator and Designer 
is reached, as the first assumption and the last result of scientific thought. 

Last of all, thought turns back upon itself, and critically analyzes all its knowledge, and its 
very power to know. It inquires into and scrutinizes its acquisitions and its assumptions, and 
challenges its own confidence in its most familiar processes and beliefs. It seeks to justify to 
itself its acquired knowledge, its science, and its faith, by retracing, under the guidance of 
logical relations, every step it has taken, and every stage through which it has passed in its 
development and growth. It analyzes to the utmost minuteness, and abstracts with the ex- 
tremest generality, till it would seem to destroy the vitality of the thinking agent by the keen- 
ness and refinement of its dissections. It lays bare the necessary assumptions, the primary and 
universal relations, which are acknowledged and acted upon in all observation, in all science, 
and in all faith. It returns home again from the unnatural course of its speculative criticism, 
and the constrained attitude of its critical and perhaps sceptical inquiries, fcs confide a second 
time in the knowledge and the faith which it could not but acquire and trust in its progressive 
synthesis, and which it now has learned to vindicate by its retrogressive analysis. 

These critical and speculative processes of thought are reserved for but few of the race to 
prosecute. They are, however, the normal and the necessary consummation of the completed 
growth of the fully developed man. 

§ 61. The consideration of the development and growth of the intellect fur- 
Order and rules n ishes the only true principles by which to regulate the culture of the intel- 
for intellectual J . 

culture. lect, and to arrange the order in which the different branches of knowledge 

should be studied. 
The studies which should be first pursued are those which require and discipline the 
powers of observation and acquisition, and which involve imagination and memory, in con- 
trast with those which demand severe efforts and trained habits of thought. Inasmuch, also, 
as material objects are apprehended and mastered in early life with far greater case and suc- 
cess than the acts and states of the spirit, objective and material studies should have almost 
the exclusive precedence. The capacity of exact and discriminating perception, and of clear 
and retentive memory, should be developed as largely as possible. The imagination, in all its 



§ 62. ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 75 

forms, should be directed and elevated — we do not say stimulated, because, in the case of most 
children, its activity is never-tiring, whether they be at study, work, or play. 

We do not say, cultivate perception, memory, and fancy, to the exclusion or repression 
of thought, for this is impossible. These powers, if exercised by human beings, must be 
interpenetrated by thought. If wisely cultivated by studies properly arranged, they will neces- 
sarily involve discrimination, comparison, and explanation. To teach pure observation, or the 
mastery of objects or words, without classification and interpretation, is to be ignorant even to 
simple stupidity. But, on the other hand, to stimulate the thought-processes to unnatural and 
prematurely painful efforts, is to do violence to the laws which nature has written in the con- 
Btitution of the intellect. Even thought and reflection teach us that, before the processes o{ 
thought can be applied, materials must be gathered in large abundance ; and to provide for 
these, Nature has made acquisition and memory easy and spontaneous for childhood, and rea- 
soning and science difficult and unnatural. 

The study of language should be prosecuted in childhood, as it is, in fact, in the acquisi- 
tion of the mother-tongue. In the acquisition of other languages the methods by which the 
vernacular is learned should be followed as far as is possible. Grammar, so far as it is re- 
quired, should be simple, plain, and practical. Its theories should be kept in the background, 
its terminology and principles should be the reverse of the abstract. The contrasts and com- 
parisons involved between the strange and the familiar, will stimulate and guide to the first 
beginnings of reflective grammar. The memory for words should be exercised and stimulated. 
Choice tales, poems — narrative and lyric, should be learned for recitation. Natural history in 
all its branches, as contrasted with the sciences of nature or scientific physics, should be mas- 
tered with the objects before the eye — flowers, minerals, shells, birds, and beasts. These 
studies should all be mastered in the springtime of life, when the tastes are simple, the heart 
is fresh, and the eye is sharp and clear. The facts of history and geography should be fixed 
by repetition and stored away in order. 

But science of every kind, whether of language, of nature, of the soul, or of God, as 
science, should not be prematurely taught. For the consequence is, either disgust and hostility 
to all study on the one hand, or, on the other, superficial thinking, presumptuous conceit, and, 
worst of all, sated curiosity. 

The law of intellectual progress involves effort and discipline severely imposed and con 
stantly maintained, but the effort and discipline should follow the guidance of nature. 



Principles of § 62 * The consideration of the nature and the development 
cl owers iU of the °^ knowledge teaches on what principles we may divide the 
intellect. powers of the intellect, and what is the most scientific 

ground of classifying them. 

In assigning different faculties to the intellect, we do not divide it into 
separable parts or organs. Such a division is less conceivable of the soul's 
power to know, than it is of its entire conscious activity. When we say 
that the intellect has faculties, we mean only that the soul, acting as the 
intellect, acts under certain conditions in clearly distinguishable operations 
and to definite and determinable results or products. The consideration 
of the soul's development determines the conditions of these faculties. 
The consideration of the logical relation of the products assigns to these 
faculties their relative authority and importance. 

In tracing the development of the intellectual powers in their succes« 
sion, we do not exclude the co-action of the other so-called faculties of the 



76 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §62. 

soul, as of feeling and will. Their presence and agency have already been 
recognized with sufficient prominence. 

Nor do we deny or overlook the truth, that the several powers of the 
intellect act together in the earlier stages of its growth, and in both the 
earlier and later periods of its history both aid and direct one another. 
The action of a single power of the intellect does not exclude the co-ac- 
tion of the other powers. Yet, on the other hand, it is to be remem- 
bered, that as the energy of the whole soul is so far limited that one 
psychical state is preeminently a state of feeling, another intellectual, and 
another voluntary, so, in the intellectual activities, one is likely to be pre- 
dominantly an act of sense rather than an act of memory. 

When it is said that one power, as defined, is, in the order of time and 
growth, developed sooner than another, it is not intended that each lower 
power is completely or largely matured before the other and higher is 
used at all, or that distinctly traced boundary lines mark off the several 
stages of the mind's development. This would involve the absurdity of 
teaching that the child perceives with the senses for a long time before it 
begins to remember, and that it remembers and imagines for another long 
period, before it generalizes and explains. What is asserted is, that sense 
must begin before memory and thought are possible, and that, as a power, 
it is perfected before thought has reached its consummation. 

Moreover, it will be found to be true in fact, that many acts which w^e 
call acts of sense-perception are largely intermingled with acts of repre- 
sentation and thought (§ 166). It will also be found to be true that acts 
of memory recall past objects under the laws of association which thought 
makes possible (§ 268) ; while imagination, in which thought is not largely 
conspicuous, is scarcely worthy the name (§ 222). 

These cautions being premised, we observe that the powers of the 
intellect are clearly distinguishable by the order of their development and 
application, as manifested in the character and relation of their products. 
Each faculty is distinguished by the conditions and results of its acting. 
It is shown to be a peculiar power, by requiring a certain opportunity or 
means of acting, and by producing certain results. 

We have shown already that the products or objects of the mind's knowing are determined 
by the kind of its acting, and grow out of this acting as its natural result. The several 
products or objects of knowledge most clearly distinguish the kinds and capacities of knowing, 
because these, in a sense, are permanent, while the act that produces them is evanescent, no 
sooner beginning than it is done. The product is preserved in language, and represented by 
words and propositions. We do not deny that the several modes of knowing arc distinguish- 
able from one another in conscious experience. It is certain that to each is assigned a special 
excitement of feeling. The perceptions of sense give a pleasure or pain which is distinguish- 
able from those of remembering and imagination, and all these processes differ in this particu- 
lar from the activities of thought. But it is the nature of the objects or products of these 
activities which furnishes the most distinct and the most easily applied criterion. These, with 



§64. ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 77 

the as clearly recognizable conditions of the mind's different ways of acting, may be taken ai 
the ground of our definition and division of the faculties of the intellect. 

§ 63. The leading faculties of the intellect are three : The 
Faculties enu- presentative, or observing faculty / the representative, or cre- 
ative faculty ; the thinking, or the generalizing faculty. 
More briefly, the faculty of experience, the faculty of representation, and 
the faculty of intelligence. Each of these has its place in the order of 
intellectual growth and development. Each has its appropriate products 
or objects. Each acts under certain conditions or laws. 

Each of these leading faculties is subdivided into subordinate powers, 
W'hich are distinguishable from one another in like manner with their pri- 
maries. 

§ 64. I. The presentative faculty, or the faculty of acqui- 
Thepreseatative sition and experience, is subdivided into sense-perception and 
consciousness ; or, as they are sometimes called, the* outer 
and the inner sense. 

In the order of the mind's development these are exercised first and 
earliest of all. The intellect begins its activity with observing objects of 
sense. Closely connected with this is the observation of the soul's inner 
experiences, prominent among which are its feelings of pleasure and pain. 
Not only is this known to be true in fact, but it is impossible for us to 
conceive that any other order should be followed. The mind must 
observe before it remembers ; for, without something observed and ac- 
quired, nothing could be remembered or imagined, because there would 
be nothing to remember or imagine. 

The objects or products with which this power is concerned, 
its objects ; how or which it evolves, are individual objects. In this respect 
they are distinguished from the objects of thought, which are 
always general. But this feature they share with those of memory and 
imagination, which are also individual. From these last they are still further 
distinguished by being presented for the first time ; hence the epithet pre- 
sentative is applied to the faculty by which they are known. This feature 
is made still more precise by their relations in space and in time. The 
objects of sense are fixed in space, being here, and the objects of conscious- 
ness are fixed as now in time. These two relations they share with the 
objects of no other power. They are also mutually related to one another, 
the one being an individualized non-ego, the other being a determinate 
state of the ego. 

The conditions to these acts of knowledge, as in every kind 
its conditions. f knowledge, are to be distinguished from the act of knowl- 
edge itself. The conditions furnish the material — in one 
sense the objects — which the mind must know. The acting of these con- 
ditions in the production of these objects, as has been explained (§ 46), is 
always presupposed before the mind can know. The mind's act in know- 



'78 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §65. 

ing is clearly to be kept apart from the agency of tlie soul or intellect in 
preparing the object. 

The conditions of the acts of sense-knowledge are the existence of the 
living body in connection with a sensitive or sensational spirit. The two 
furnish the material, the occasions, or the objects on which the mind 
exercises the intellectual act of cognition. Some of these are bodily, 
some are psychical. Some of these are known to physiology, others to 
acoustics and optics. Others are wholly unknown, as is eminently true of 
the powers and relations of the soul which respect the organized body. 
But so far as they are knowable, they are appropriately considered in 
explaining the power of sense-knowledge. 

The condition which furnishes or constitutes the object for the act of 
consciousness^ is that the soul should in fact act or suffer in a present and 
individual state. Unless the soul is in fact thus affected, its activity can- 
not be apprehended by consciousness. Consciousness takes heed of the 
fact, i, e., of the operation, and cognizes that it is. Whence or how it is 
that the soul furnishes this material, or how the soul is able to act in these 
varied forms, it can do little to explain. These operations lie out of the 
range of consciousness ; they are presupposed by it. On the other hand, 
consciousness as well as perception are largely concerned in the use which 
they make of the objective conditions or material of their, knowing, and 
are therefore largely responsible for what the soul knows. Let the exter- 
nal world and the quick sensibility both conjoin to furnish ample material 
through eye and ear; let .the active and eager soul exercise the most 
varied forms of act or affection ; if the conscious spirit does not attend, it 
will fail to notice, and of course will fail to know. 

§ 65. II. Next to the presentative comes the faculty of 
tire facS?T nta " re P resenta ^ on ' That this is developed second in order of 

growth and of time to the soul's power to acquire and 
observe, is obvious. 

TJie objects or products of this poicer are individual objects, 
its objects. like the objects of sense and of consciousness. They differ 

from them in this, that they are representative of them. Of 
course, they are not real, but mental objects. They are wrought or cre- 
ated by the mind itself, but always with respect to some real object actu- 
ally experienced. This is their common characteristic, that they represent 
observed and experienced objects. They are representative ; i. e., they 
present a second time, and thus stand in the place of, objects previously 
known. 

In representing these objects, the mind acts in two ways — as the mem- 
ory ; and as the imagination or phantasy ; and hence the representative 
power is divided into these two. In memory it knows that the mental ob- 
ject represents an object previously known. In imagination it changes the 
representative object into another, which it has never actually experienced, 



§6Q. ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 79 

According as it changes the object in more or fewer particulars, and with 
special applications, does the imagination receive different names. 
its conditions • ^he conditions of the representing power are, that the soul 
Kas iation ° f D °th retains and reproduces past objects for the memory to 

recognize and the imagination to modify. If the soul refuses 
to furnish these appropriate objects, neither the memory nor the imagina- 
tion can know their objects. For this reason, the power of the soul to 
retain and recall is essential to the power to know these mental objects 
when represented. Ordinarily and properly these powers are prominently 
considered in the analysis of the representative faculty. That they are 
ideally and really distinguishable from one another is obvious. Hamilton 
distinguishes three separate powers, viz., the power to retain, the power to 
recall, and the power to represent or re-know. The last only is the purely 
intellectual capacity, the first two being only the capacities acting out of 
consciousness, which are analogous to the psycho-physiological functions 
that furnish sounds for the ear and sights for the eye. 

Concerning the actings of this conditionating capacity of the soul we 
know little directly, but indirectly we know very much : that is, we know 
how we can affect its actings by our own conscious energies in acquiring. 
The relations and laws by which acquired objects can be reproduced are 
more obvious and better established than almost any other psychological 
truths. These are all comprehended under the familiar title of the asso- 
ciation of ideas, and they very properly enter largely into the considera- 
tion of the representative power. 

§ 6G. IIL The power of thought is developed last of all in 
•teiiigence, devei- the order of the soul's evolution or growth. It is also called 

the intelligence, and the rational faculty. 
This power requires for its possible exercise some range of observation, 
some wealth of memory, and some creative activity of imagination. For its 
effective energy and its actual application it must be preceded by many sepa- 
rate exercises of all these functions. To the thorough and persistent use and 
the complete development of this power, the soul is most of all disinclined ; 
and therefore it disuses it in many applications, especially in its higher 
forms, till the experience of its dignity and usefulness, furnishes motives 
strong enough to constrain and discipline it to 'habitual and facile activity. 
But though this power is last and reluctantly developed, it surpasses 
all the other kinds of knowledge in dignity and importance. It explains 
facts and events by powers and laws. It enforces conclusions by premises. 
It accounts for inferences by data. It lifts observation up to the dignity 
of science, and establishes it on the firm foundation of principles. It 
enables us to interpret the past, and to predict the future. 

The products of this power are always generalized objects, 
its products. They are universals, as contrasted with individuals. This 

difference distinguishes this power of the intellect widely 



80 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §60. 

from the two others. These products are known by various names, and it 
is chiefly by the commonly recognized differences in the names of these 
products, that the subordinate forms of the power itself are known and 
named. These products are, the concept, the class, the judgment, the 
argument, the induction, the interpretation, and the system. The general 
term comprehending all these products or results, and presupposing all the 
requisite processes or ways of knowing, is science, which is used subjec- 
tively for the processes, and objectively for their combined products. 

In accordance with these distinguishable products, the intellect is said 
to perform all the acts which require the several powers or faculties of 
generalizing, classifying, judging, reasoning, inferring, explaining, and 
methodizing the individual objects given by experience. Hence the intel- 
lect is sometimes said to be endowed with as many separate faculties. 

The most obvious aid or instrument provided by Nature for further- 
ing these processes and retaining their products, is language. For this 
reason the existence of language is regarded as a necessary result of the 
power of thought, and the use of language is regarded as the indication of 
its presence and exercise. 

The conditions of thought, as distinguished from the rnate- 
^f h thought tlon3 "als or occasions of thought which experience furnishes, are 
relations discerned by the power of thought itself, in a way 
analogous to the preparation of the occasions of sense-perception and con- 
sciousness by the subtle and recondite activity of the soul itself, and the 
occasions of memory and imagination through the laws of association. 
They are analogous so far as that the reality of these relations is an 
assumed condition of these peculiar operations ; and when the mind comes 
to apprehend them, it must proceed upon the belief that they are uni- 
versally present and incontestably valid. In this sense the mind itself pre- 
pares for itself these objects of its own apprehension. For the service of 
thought, all individual objects are still farther prepared by being con- 
nected or bound together under universal and necessary relations or cate- 
gories. Such are the relations of substance and attribute, cause and effect, 
means and end. These must be presented to the mind by the mind, in 
order that a single process of thought may be performed, or a single 
product evolved. Thus the relation of substance and attribute is assumed 
as real in order to the possibility and truth of the acts of generalizing and 
of judgment. The relation of cause and effect must be presupposed to 
give meaning and force to acts of reasoning and explanation. The rela- 
tions of design are the prefatory conditions of acts of induction. But 
universal or generalized objects presuppose the existence of individual 
concepts and their relations, and have no meaning except as they are 
related to beings and phenomena as perceived and experienced. To indi- 
vidual beings and events, space and time relations are presupposed. 
Therefore, in order to the products of thought, the intuitions of space and 



I 66. ITS FUNCTION, DEVELOPMENT, AND FACULTIES. 



81 



time are presupposed. In other words, the mind must assume that every 
individual object stands connected with other objects by all these relations 
before it can proceed a step in the various activities of thinking these 
objects, by conceptions, arguments, inferences, etc. These relations are 
said to be a priori, for the reason that they are presupposed in these 
processes. They are called intuitions, primitive cognitions, etc., etc. 
They are said to be universal, because applicable to every individual 
object in the way explained. They are necessary notions, because they 
are necessarily applied by the mind in all its thought-activities, and to all 
thought-objects. 

They are, however, i-0 more necessary to thought than they are to 
presentation and representation. We imply and suppose them as truly, 
though not as conspicuously, in perception and consciousness, in memory 
and imagination, as we do in classification and reasoning. We connect 
them more directly with the processes of intelligence, because it is not 
till we question or analyze these processes that we are forced to recognize 
their presence and assent to their validity, as directly and conspicuously 
assumed in them all. 

Moreover, it is by means of the generalizing and the inductive pro- 
cesses that we discern and define these categories. It is only as we use 
thought-processes critically — i. e., as we generalize and interpret our 
own mental processes — that we discover these relations as everywhere and 
necessarily present. Though they are actually present, as the conditions 
and elements of all our knowing, it is only by thought that we discover 
and demonstrate their presence and their application, as the conditions of 
all knowledge. It is for this reason that the treatment of them is so 
directly connected with the analysis of thought, and that, when thought, in 
its turn, is applied to their analysis, as the explanation and vindication of 
human knowledge in its processes and products, then the intellect is said 
to reach the critical stage of its development. 

In view of this distinction in the thinking power, or the two 
foms of though? as P e °t s m which it is to be regarded, the power itself has 
been treated as twofold, and been subdivided into two : the 
elaborative faculty, as performing the processes, and the regulative, as 
furnishing the rules, or more properly as prescribing the sphere and possi- 
bility of thought. These are named also the clianoetic and the noetic 
faculty. By some writers they are distinguished as the understanding and 
reason, in a usage suggested by Kant, but deviating materially from his 
own. Milton and others call them the discursive and intuitive Reason- 
It is clear that the analysis of the thinking power involves two heads 
of inquiry : 

(1.) What are the several processes of thought of which the intellect 
is capable, in the order of their development, the manner of their action, 
their conditions, and their products? So far as psychology prosecutes 



82 THE HUMAN INTELLECT § 66. 

these inquiries, it considers them subjectively as processes of the soul. 
When we go further, and proceed to define their products as expressed in 
language, or to derive rules for the knowing processes, or to test the trust- 
worthiness of what is known, psychology passes over into the service of 
logic. 

(2.) What are the ultimate relations or categories which thought, and, 
indeed, all knowledge, presupposes ? What is the power or process by 
which these categories are known ? What the time of their develop- 
ment ? What the conditions of their action ? What is the authority and 
trustworthiness of these truths ? What is the relation of these intuitions 
to special acts of knowledge ? What application can be made of them to 
the discovery of truth and the detection of error ? Last of all, how can 
they be applied to vindicate man's confidence in his own knowledge, and 
his very power to know ? 

All these questions, when prosecuted with reference to the subjective 
power of the soul to evolve and apply these intuitions, belong legitimately 
and necessarily to psychology. 

So far as the intuitions themselves, objectively considered, are made 
the subjects of analysis and discussion; so far as their relations to one 
another, and the structure of human knowledge, are examined ; so far, in 
short, as they are made the subject of critical or speculative discussion, 
they lead us within the field of metaphysics, ontology, or speculative 
philosophy, for which, as has been already explained, psychology is the 
direct and necessary preparation. 

In view of the importance of this critical examination of the mind's 
own processes, and of the trustworthiness of these products, the discus- 
sion of the so-called intuitions, or the concepts and relations involved in 
all human knowledge, falls within the province of psychology, and may 
properly form a distinct division in the scientific analysis of the human 
intellect. 

We divide, therefore, our treatise into four parts, with the following 
titles : I. Presentation ; II. Representation ; III. Thought ; IV. In- 
tuition. For the explanation and justification of this division 'we must 
refer to the foregoing remarks, and the subsequent treatment of the topics 
themselves. 



THE HUMAN INTELLECT. 



PART FIRST. 

PRESENTATION AND PRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 
CHAPTER I. 

CONSCIOUSNESS — NATUEAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 

We begin with presentative knowledge, and the faculties by which man is capable of acquir. 
ing it. This knowledge has been denned as concerned with objects which are directly 
and for the first time presented to the mind, as acquired for the mind's future recall and 
use, and as gained only by actual experience. It is therefore called presentative, acquisi- 
tive, and experimental or empirical. Of objects thus presented to the mind there are two 
classes : objects of matter, and objects of spirit. Corresponding to these two classes of 
objects, two powers or faculties are distinguished, viz., consciousness and sense-percep- 
tion. We shall first treat of consciousness. 

§ 67. Consciousness is briefly defined as the power by which 
consciousness tiie sou i knows its own acts and states. The soul is aware 

defined. 

of the fleeting and transitory acts which it performs ; as 
when it perceives, remembers, feels, and decides. It also knows its own 
states ; as when it is conscious of a continued condition of intellectual 
activity, a gay or melancholy mood of feeling, or a fixed and enduring 
purpose. Whether the state is in such cases in fact prolonged, or only 
repeated by successive renewals, we need not here inquire ; it is sufficient 
that states of the soul are distinguished from its acts by their seeming 
continuance. 

The power by which the soul is made aware of what happens to it or takes 

Applied to the place within itself — whether it is action or affection, doing or experiencing — 
power and its f „ , x . „ . , . „ . ™- 

acts. is called the power of consciousness, or, briefly, consciousness. We say 

freely and properly, man is endowed with consciousness, or consciousness is 

the feature by which he is distinguished from and elevated above the brutes. It might be 

urged that it is more exact to apply the term to the exercise of the power, rather than to the 

power itself. Thus we speak of an act of consciousness, through which we are distinctly aware 

of a mental act or state. We also talk of an appeal to consciousness, in order that we may 

decide whether an assertion concerning the soul is true. We intend in such language that the 

soul, by its consciousness of the act, can discern and decide whether the affirmation is true. And 



84 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 70. 

yet it might be contended that in phrases of this kind, what is intended is the exercise or act 
of the power or endowment called consciousness. So easily does one of these uses pass into 
the other, and so readily is the name of the power applied to the exertion of the power. Of 
such an interchange, and consequent ambiguity, we shall find many examples as we proceed. 

consciousness § 68 * Again, tae terms conscious and consciousness are ofteD 
Ste knowledge a PP^ e ^ to an J ac ^ whatever of direct cognition, whether its 
of any kind. object be internal or external. In other words, they are used 
as equivalent to knowing, perceiving, etc., and to knowledge, perception, 
etc. Thus we say, ' I was not conscious that you were in the room ; ' or, 
' I was not conscious that he was speaking ; ' as well as, c I was not con- 
scious of being angry.' In cases like these the terms designate an act of 
simple perception or knowledge. The reason why they come to do so is, 
that every act of knowledge, whatever be its nature or object, is attended 
by consciousness. The phrase, c I was not conscious that you were in the 
room,' is explained as meaning, ' I was not conscious of seeing you in the 
room.' Especially are we said to be conscious, whenever our perception 
or knowledge is distinct and clear. 

Whether, in the strict and limited sense of the term, we can be conscious of the act without also being 
aware of the object, and whether, consequently, we are properly said, in this sense, to be conscious of the 
object, will be discussed further on (§ 82). It is sufficient here to notice that the words are often used for 
distinct knowledge of any kind, especially for such a knowledge of sensible objects. 

, .. , § 69. Consciousness is also employed as a collective term for 

A collective term ° to 

for aii the intei- all the intellectual states. In the words of Sir William 

lectual states. , . ,. . , • 

Hamilton, " it is a comprehensive term tor the complement 
of our cognitive energies." Every such state or energy is attended by 
consciousness ; it is an act or state of which we are conscious, or, as we 
sometimes say, it is a conscious act or state. The sum-total of all such 
acts is therefore expressively described as the consciousness of an individual. 
It is equally true that we are conscious of our states of feeling, and all 
these may be designated by the same general and comprehensive term, 
though with somewhat less propriety. So, also, the various modes of the 
soul's activity, whether we speak of what is actual or possible to an indi- 
vidual or a class of men, or to the whole human race, are comprehended 
under the. term ; as when we speak of the range of human consciousness 
as equivalent to the states or modes of actual or possible human ex- 
perience. 

Some writers have borrowed from the German the phrases, ' the Christian consciousness,' 
and the like, making consciousness, for the reason already given, to represent those beliefs and 
feelings of which the Christian, or any other type of man, is conscious. All the acts and states 
which are comprehended under this abstract designation have this common characteristic, that 
we are conscious of them all. We therefore designate them all by this common feature. 

,r A v • ,* , § 10. Consciousness is often figuratively described as the 

Metaphorical def- ° . 

tuitions of con- l witness ' of the states of the soul, as though it were an 

■sciousness. 

observer separate from the soul itself, inspecting and behold- 



§ Y2. CONSCIOUSNESS. 85 

ing its processes. It is called the ' inner light,' ' an inner illumination,' as 
though a sudden flash or steady radiance could be thrown within the 
spirit, revealing objects that would otherwise be indistinct, or causing 
those to appear which would otherwise not be seen at all. Appellation* 
like these are so obviously figurative, that it is surprising that any philoso- 
pher should use them for scientific purposes, or should reason upon, or 
use them with scientific rigor. However they are intended, they are 
liable to this objection, that they often mislead the student by furnishing 
him a sensuous picture, a pleasing fancy, or an attractive image, when he 
needs an exact conception or a discriminated definition (cf. § 25). 

Thus Cousin says (as translated by Henry) : " Consciousness is a witness which gives us 
information of every thing which takes place in the interior of our own minds. It is not the 
principle of any of our faculties, but is a light to them all."— Cousin's Psychology, chap. x. 

Dr. Hickok, also : "If, instead of attempting to conceive consciousness as a distinct men- 
tal faculty, . . .we will consider it under the analogy of an inner illuminatifon," &c. " The 
conception is not of a faculty, but of a light ; not of an action, but of an illumination ; not 
of a maker of phenomena, but of a revealer of them as already made by the appropriate intel- 
lectual operation." — Empirical Psychology, Introduction, chap. iii. 2. 

§ 71. The terms conscious and consciousness explain their 
ofcoScSusnesf own meaning, and confirm the truth of the assumption and 
belief that the fact implied by the language is to be received. 
They describe a knowing with, or an attendant knowledge, and they imply 
that the states of the human soul may be known by the soul to which 
they pertain. 

The power of the soul thus to know itself is often called the internal, 
or the inner sense. This term is suggested by analogy. As the soul, by 
the external sense or senses, apprehends the properties and qualities of 
matter, so it is said to know its own states and powers by another, viz., 
an inner sense. 

This analogy has been pushed by many to an extreme. It has been inferred, because, aa 
the conditions of the apprehension of external objects and qualities, special sensations are 
required, it therefore follows that there must be an analogous something in the spirit, preced- 
ing the apprehension of internal operations ; that, because the power is called a sense, it must 
experience g-wasi-sensations. Cf. Fries, Neue Kritih der Vernunft, vol. i. §§ 21-28. 

§ 72. Consciousness is, for the same reason, also called by 
whya) C caiied ' man y philosophers, as Leibnitz, ad- or op-perception, by 

which term the same fact is recognized that consciousness 
implies, viz., a perception of the mind's own states, in addition to the per- 
ception of the objects of those states. 

Apperception is not, however, limited to this application, but is used 
for any additional or added perception ; as, for example, of the real object 
in addition to the image which represents the object. Apperception in this 
sense is very near to the reflective, or secondary consciousness, to which we 
shall advert hereafter. 



86 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 73. 

" Thus it is well to make a distinction between perception, which is the inner state of the monad, 
representing external things, and apperception, which is consciousness, or the reflexive knowledge of this 
interior state, which is not given to all souls, nor always to the same soul." Leibnitz. Of Nature, and 
Grace, § 4, cf. Memoire sur V apperception de la prqpre existence. 

It is worth while to notice that among the philosophers of the Leibnitzian school the word appercep- 
tion is variously defined. Thus Christian "Wolf says : " Menti tribuitur apperceptio quatenus perceptionis 
suae sibi conscia est. 

" Apperceptionis nomine utitur Leibnitius : coincidit autem cum conscientia, quern terminum in prce- 
senti negotio Cartesius adhibet."— Emp. Psych., V. i. sec. i. cap. ii. § 25. 

But B. M. G. HanscMus, in his Leibnitii Princ. Phil., says, after defining apperception, Sec. cxi. : 
; ' Apperceptio includit claritatem reprsesentationis. Coroll. II. Omnis perceptio distincta, est apper- 
ceptio." 

It is interesting to observe how that, in these two distinct significations of apperception, we have the 
precise counterpart of the two senses of consciousness as knowledge and clear knowledge. The solution is 
well expressed by the remark of Wolf : " Omnis cogitatio et perceptionem et apperceptionem involvit." 

The term Bewusstseyn, and its cognates in the Teutonic languages, recognizes rather the 
distinct than the accompanying knowledge which consciousness makes prominent. .It de- 
scribes a be-, rather than a cow-knowing ; i. e. 3 the clear and completed knowledge which the 
mind usually attains by a second and more attentive look. Hence it is with eminent propriety 
applied to that knowledge which the soul has of its inner states, as this, to be of any service, 
must be earnest and attentive. The word in German, however, is not so closely limited to this 
internal knowledge, as is consciousness, in English. It is supplemented by self-consciousness 
— Selbst-bewusstseyn. Hence sometimes, when we should use consciousness only, the German? 
would say self-consciousness. Their more usual technical appellation for the power is the innej 
or internal sense. 

Not a little confusion of thought has resulted from the failure of some, not to say of mosl 
translators, to notice that the proper meaning of Bewusstseyn, especially in compounds and 
with prefixes, is knowledge rather than consciousness ; e. g., Gottesbewusstseyn is not so well 
translated by the ' consciousness of God,' as by the ' intuition of God,' or ' the direct ana 
necessary knowledge of God.' Cf. Biunde, Versuch. d. emp. Psych., B. i. § 49. 

. ' g 73. Reflection is the appellation used by Locke for this 

d n fin e d ect d° n a d P ower 5 or ' more exactly, it is under this appellation that he 
by Locke. discusses its nature and authority. Hence, among many 

English writers reflection is freely used as the exact equivalent of con- 
sciousness. It is the great and distinctive merit of Locke to have called 
attention to it as a separate source of knowledge, and to have claimed for 
the knowledge which it furnishes equal authority and certainty with that 
which is received through the senses. That Locke did not originate the 
term, nor the conception which the term denotes, is established decisively 
by Hamilton (Met., Lee. 13). Locke's language is worth quoting for the 
clearness with which he expresses his doctrine, as well as for the impor- 
tance of the passage in relation to the history of psychological and philo- 
sophical opinions : 

" The other fountain from which experience furnisheth the understanding with ideas, is 
the perception of the operations of our own minds within us, as it is employed about the ideas 
which it has got ; which operations, when the soul comes to reflect on and consider, do fur- 
nish the understanding with another set of ideas, which could not bo had from things without ; 
and such are perception, thinking, doubting, believing, reasoning, knowing, trilling, and all the 
different actings of our own minds ; which we, being conscious of, and observing in ourselves, 
do from these receive into our understandings as distinct ideas as we do from bodies affecting 



§ *74. CONSCIOUSNESS. Si 

our senses. This source of ideas every man has wholly in himself ; and though it be not 
sense, as having nothing to do with external objects, yet it is very like it, and might properly 
enough be called internal sense. But as I call the other, sensation, so I call this, reflection, the 
ideas it affords .being such only as the mind gets by reflecting on its own operations within 
itself." — Essay, Book ii. chap. i. § 4. 

The passage quoted, has been a fruitful text for controversy in respect to many questions. The only 
luostions, however, with which we are at present concerned, are (1.) whether Locke distinguishes conscious- 
ness from reflection ? and (2.) if so, does he define the relation of one to the other ? To the first, we answer : 
that Locke uses the terms consciousness, and reflection, in separate passages, no one can deny who reads 
the following passages— Essay, B. ii. c. 27, § 9 ; c. i. § 19 ; c. i. § 24 ; c. 10, § 5 ; c. i. § 4. He says 
distinctly, "Consciousness is the perception of what passes in a man's own mind." He insists most ear- 
nestly that the soul cannot he active without being conscious of its activity. " No man can be wholly 
ignorant of what he does when he thinks." "Whenever he has occasion to speak of the power which 
gives us ideas of our operations, he invariably uses the term reflection. The reason is obvious from his 
own words as quoted above — " which operations, when the soul comes to reflect on and consider, do furnish 
the understanding with another set of ideas." In other words, though we cannot but be conscious of every 
act of thought, or, as elsewhere explained, of every state of the soul, yet it is only when we reflect or con- 
sider these that we gain ideas of them. To the second question we answer : that Locke nowhere in form 
defines the relation of consciousness to reflection. It never seems to have occurred to him that they are 
related, or that he ought to explain what their relations are. The questions which, since his time, have 
assumed so great interest and importance, did not present themselves to his mind. From the use which he 
makes of these terms, however, we are fully authorized to derive the following as a just statement of the 
opinions which he would have expressed had his attention been called to the relation of consciousness to 
reflection : In order to gain ideas or permanent knowledge of the mind, we must use a certain power with 
reflection and consideration. But the power itself is not created or first exercised by or in such acts or 
efforts. These are but exercises of this power in a given way and energy. The power itself is the capacity 
of the mind to know its acts or states. This power is consciousness, which Locke himself has defined to be 
" the perception of what passes in a man's own mind," and without which man never thinks at all. "When 
this power is used in a peculiar way, and with energy or concentration enough to secure a certain effect, it 
becomes reflection. Reflection is therefore consciousness intensified by attention. Inasmuch, however, 
as the power is rarely referred to except as giving the results of actual knowledge, reflection is the word by 
which it is usually known. 

§ 74. Consciousness is exercised in two forms or species of 
activity™ 8 ° lts activity, viz., the natural or spontaneous, and the artificial or 

reflective. They are also called by some writers the primary 
and the secondary consciousness. The one form is possessed by all men ; 
the other is attained by few. The first is a gift of Nature and product of 
spontaneous growth; the second is an accomplishment of art and the 
reward of special discipline. The natural precedes the reflective in the order 
of time and of actual development. But it does not differ from it in kind, 
only in an accidental element, which brings its results within our reach 
and retains them for our service. This is the general conception which 
we form of both, as preliminary to the special consideration of each. 

Consciousness, like every other kind of knowledge, can be exercised with varying degrees 
of energy. In other words, it can be accompanied with more or less attention. The degrees 
of attention with which it is exercised by different persons at different periods in different 
conditions of life, and under the aids and excitements of education and culture, are exceed- 
ingly numerous, and distinguished by shades of difference that readily run into one another. 
They are measured by a scale of more extensive range than can be applied to the varying 
energies of any other human endowment. Men differ more widely in respect to the energy 
and effect with which they use this power, than in respect to any other. 

The capacity to attend to the psychical states in the lowest appreciable degree — i. e., with 
that energy which leaves any permanent product or result for the memory or imagination is 



88 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § ^5. 

matured by the slow education of infancy and childhood (§ 86). During this period, even 
under the most favorable circumstances, the growth and development of consciousness is 
steady, but slow. Under the influence of moral and religious stimulus it is oftentimes brought 
Lo striking maturity in persons who, in other respects, have little culture. Not unfrequently 
its development is carried to a morbid excess. 

"Where consciousness is energized by attention, and applied to psychical phenomena for 
scientific purposes in the interest of psychological science, it is called the secondary, the arti- 
ficial, the philosophical or reflective consciousness, or simply, reflection. As such, it is distin- 
guished from and contrasted with the primary, the natural, the common, the unreflecting con- 
sciousness, or simply, consciousness. The division indicated by these contrasted terms is 
convenient and important. It should always be remembered, however, that the two so-called 
species of consciousness do not differ from one another in kind, but in degree, and that there 
is no well-defined and sharp line of distinction that divides off the one from the other. Nor 
should it be forgotten that the so-called natural consciousness, or consciousness as possessed 
and used by adults of average culture in an intelligent community, is the result of growth 
and the product of culture (§ 86). The power and habit of attentively apprehending one's 
own psychical states exists in such persons in various degrees of energy and perfection. The 
several stages of the growth of the natural consciousness are sometimes indicated by terms 
ranging from the lower toward the higher points in the scale, as, self-feeling, consciousness, 
consciousness of the ego, self-consciousness. These appellations are artificial and technical, 
which have scarcely been received into current use, or taken a precise import. 

In treating of consciousness, we begin with what we called the natural or primary con- 
sciousness. We shall first treat of the elements which are essential to this form of knowledge, 
with whatever degree of energy it may be exerted, and afterward treat of its growth and 
development. 

Natural con- 8 75. We begin with natural, or primary consciousness. 

dciousness defin- " . . . . 

ed as an act. .Natural consciousness is the power which the mind naturally 

Necessary to all .. /?!••, n i 

acts. and necessarily possesses of knowing its own acts and states. 

It may be further described by considering it in its operations and its 
objects, or as consciousness the act, and consciousness the object. 

We begin with consciousness the act. As an act, it is a necessary and 
essential constituent of many active conditions of the soul. The soul can- 
not know, without knowing that it knows. It cannot feel, without know- 
ing that it feels ; nor can it desire, will, and act, without knowing that it 
desires, wills, and acts. 

It is held by many psychologists that there arc states of the soul of which we are not con- 
scious. Others hold that we are conscious of all its activities. We do not discuss the question here, 
but reserve it for future consideration (§ 87). For our present purpose, it is enough to assert, 
as all will agree, that there are many acts of which we are naturally and necessarily conscious. 

An act of knowi- Consciousness is an act of knowledge, and is therefore an 
rcMi 0n r ol ^nd act purely and simply intellectual— an exercise of the intel- 
product. j ect only. The states observed may be psychical, i. <?., 

indifferently states of intellect, sensibility, or will— but the act by which 
they are known is intellectual only. It is an act of direct or intuitive 
knowledge. To attain it, neither memory nor reasoning are required, nor 
any indirect process or succession of acts, but the soul immediately knows 



§ 75. NATUKAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 89 

its present condition or act. It confronts it face to face. It knows it as 
now existing. It is eminently presentative knowledge. 

Consciousness, as an act of knowledge, is matured into, or results in a 
peculiar product. When it is complete, it furnishes for the mind's recall 
an idea of the object known. This is a purely intellectual result. What the 
mind is conscious of may be a state of knowledge, feeling, or choice, but 
the mind's consciousness of feeling or choice, as a product or result which 
it retains and recalls, is not feeling or choice, but the idea or image of 
either. The feeling and choice which we recall is not a feeling or choice, 
but our idea or image of a feeling or choice, and this is purely intellectual. 
This is very important to be considered for a correct theory of representa- 
tion. As an act of knowledge, it involves the discernment of relations 
(§ 49). We know the state to be our own ; i. e., we discern its relation 
to ourselves. We know that the present is not the past state of the soul ; 
i. e., we know the two under the relations of contrast and of time. Again, 
the knowing agent distinguishes itself as the conscious observer from 
itself and its own states as the object observed. While it knows the 
states which it observes, to be its own, it discriminates the object observed 
from itself, the observer, and from its own act of observation. Thus it 
fulfils the conditions w r hich have been laid down as common to every act 
of knowledge, that it is at once an act of analytic separation and synthetic 
union. The object thus discriminated from and by the observer becomes, 
when it is discriminated wdth sufficient attention, a separate product for 
the mind's retention and recall, or furnishes material for the representative 
power under its several forms of phantasy, memory, and imagination. 

The act of consciousness is a peculiar intellectual act — an act 
in its conditions', that is preeminently sui generis. Especially is it peculiar in 

the conditions of its exercise. To most of the other acts of 
knowledge it is required that their objects should exist before they are 
known. But in this peculiar process the object and act are blended in one. 

Thus, the landscape on which I gaze is a permanent object, to which I can bring and from 
which I can withdraw my mind. The thought or feeling which I remember must have been 
experienced in order that it may be known a second time. It is rashly concluded by many 
that this is a necessary and universal condition of all knowledge. Hence it is argued, that the 
act of consciousness is impossible because it is inconceivable and irrational. It violates, as is 
objected, the first and essential requirement, that something should have existed, in order to 
be known. ' How can I know that I know,' it is urged, ' unless I have first known, in order 
to furnish an object for me to know ? ' Or it is concluded that consciousness is, at best, but a 
kind of memory, an act that immediately follows the act or state of which we are said to be 
conscious. " No one," says Herbert Spencer, " is conscious of what he is, but of what he was a 
moment before. That which thinks, can never be the object of direct contemplation ; seeing 
that, to be this, it must become that which is thought of, not that which thinks. It is impos- 
sible to be at the same time that which regards and that which is regarded." Principle* 
of Psychology, Part i. chap. i. p. 40. Cf. F. Bowen, Essays, pp. 131, 2. Merian, sur V Apper- 
ception, etc. The force of this objection is in the pure assumption, that every thing which is 



90 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 77. 

known must have already existed. But this assumption is unauthorized. It is derived from 
a supposed analogy between this and other acts of knowledge. It by no means follows, 
because the landscape must have existed before we see it, or the mental state must have 
occurred before we remember it, that a perception or feeling must be past before we can be 
conscious of it. Whatever we experience of a mode of knowing, must be real, whether it is 
iike or unlike any other, provided only that we are sure that we have to do with facts, not with 
fancies. Besides, how can one remember that which he did not know at the time when it 
occurred ? How can one recall the state in which he was a moment before, and know that he 
was in that state, if he did not know he was in that state at the precise and passing instant ? 
Those that resolve acts of consciousness into acts of memory, make memory itself impossible, 
however closely it is said to follow the act which is remembered. We cannot recall the act 
itself, nor that it was our own act, unless we knew both, when the act occurred. 

Peculiar in the § ^ 6 * ^ * s a ^ so °l>j ecte< 3, tnat tne vei T language by which we 
wh?ch U ft g is de- see k t0 describe an act of consciousness, proves the act itself 
scribed. to be impossible. The act of knowing, it is said, is ex- 

pressed by one phrase, and the object known by another. They cannot, 
therefore, coincide in a single mental state or experience, as is demon- 
strated by the very terms in which we seek to describe the impossible phe- 
nomenon. The phenomenon is, therefore, refuted by the logical incompati- 
bility of the terms which describe it. To this it is sufficient to reply, that 
when we say we know that we know, we neither assert nor imply that 
the act of knowing is separable in time from the object known. We 
employ two phrases, indeed, as we often employ separate words to designate 
what we distinguish in thought, which is yet undistinguished in time. 

It is a most important maxim in philosophy, without which we may almost say it is im- 
possible to prosecute philosophical analysis of any kind with effect and success, that there are 
very many objects which we can distinguish in thought and describe by separate words and 
phrases, which cannot be separated in fact. Thus we distinguish the length from the breadth 
of a superficies ; but both belong to it, and if one is absent, neither the other, nor the super- 
ficies itself, can have any being, nor can either be logically supposable. We also distinguish 
the color from the extension, and both from the hardness of a material body ; but neither can 
exist, nor can either be apprehended apart. The truth and importance of this maxim we are 
not yet prepared to discuss. It can only be fully appreciated and justified after a profound 
and subtle inquiry into the nature of all analysis. But the examples cited permit a sufficient 
answer to the objection, that language and thought prove the act of consciousness to bo impos- 
sible and self-contradictory. 

Here, too, we may apply the principle already recognized, that the language by which wo 
describe mental acts and states was originally applied to the properties and energies of mate- 
rial objects. When, therefore, we would express or describe the peculiar act by which the 
soul knows itself, we must use phrases, and, it may be, figures of speech, which were first 
applied to matter and sensible things. The associations and expectations which are proper 
to the one species of knowledge, should never be allowed to disturb our faith in the other. 
Least of all should an objection derived from the mere forms and figures of language occasion 
the slightest difficulty in receiving a well-accredited and an experienced fact. 

§ 77. From the consideration of consciousness the act, we 

c°^tiousness p ass ^ consciousness the object. The object of consciousness 

has already been defined to be an act or state of the soul ; 



§ 78. NATUEAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 91 

more exactly, the soul acting and suffering in an individual state. Thai 
such an object should be peculiar and unlike any other, we are prepared to 
believe, by what we have already noticed under consciousness as an act. 
Other peculiarities will reveal themselves to a closer inspection. 

We observe, in general, that the phenomena of the soul are 
Psychical states, U nlike the phenomena of matter in this, that they are given 

complex objects. - 1 - . , . 

to observation as essentially complex even in their greatest 
simplicity. We cite some examples of sense-phenomena. We observe the 
flying of an arrow, the shooting of a star, the melting of gold, the singing 
of a bird, the odor of a flower. What we know in these cases by direct 
intuition, is an event or phenomenon which afterward, by a reflective pro- 
cess, we refer to some substance or subject, and in which we detect cer- 
tain necessary relations to space. The flying, the shooting, the meltiug, 
the singing, we refer to some being to which they belong. That which is 
necessarily discerned by the senses, is the phenomenon itself as a simple 
event, on which the mind may rest without contemplating it under any 
other relation. But phenomena of the soul can never be known by con- 
sciousness as simple. Every state or condition of the spirit is in its real 
nature, and must be actually known by the soul, to be complex, even in its 
extremest simplicity. This object is threefold in its elements, every one of 
which must be recognized by the conscious spirit. The elements are, the 
identical ego, either agent or patient according as the case may be; the 
object with respect to which it acts or suffers ; and the present state or 
action in which it exists or acts. Every psychical state of which we are 
conscious implies an acting or existing ego, to which the state pertains. A 
condition of the soul without an individual person acting or feeling, is 
impossible as a conception, and is never experienced as a fact. Again, this 
ego is known to be in a definite form or condition of action or suffering. 
The states are transient, the agent remains. The states are as fleeting and 
as transitory as the flying moments ; indeed, they come and go more 
swiftly than any instants which we can count ; the individual self remains 
unchanged, referring all these changes to itself. Again, the ego, in its 
acting and suffering, is concerned with some object. It must have some 
object to be employed upon, either material or mental. One state is as 
often distinguished from another by its object, as by any thing beside. 
These are the elements which make up that complex whole w T hich we call 
the object of consciousness. 

Relation of con- § ^ 8 » It is a natural question, What is the relation of con- 
eacT 51 ©? these sciousness to each of these essential constituents, as com- 
eiements. bined together in one general view, or as each calls forth 

special and separate attention ? To this question we give this general 
preliminary answer : The soul, in consciousness, is directly cognizant of all 
these elements, as entering into every one of its states. It knows them 
as distinguishable from one another, and yet as, in their union, consti- 



U2 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 78. 

luting a single whole. The whole is constituted of all these elements ; 
each as related to each and every other make up a state of the soul. To 
any such state one element is as necessary as another, and one relation 
is as necessary as another to the conception and as essential to the fact. 
Of these elements and these relations the soul is equally cognizant. 

Here we observe that, in an act of direct or intuitive knowledge like consciousness, it is as 
essential that the connecting bonds should be apprehended, as the parts which they bind or 
connect. In abstract or logical knowledge, the parts are considered separately, and to each 
we assign a separate word or phrase ; but in real knowledge the parts are viewed together. 
The verbal expression of a mental state is not a single word, as /, perceive [or] love, this apple, 
each apprehended apart, and then somehow aggregated into a phrase or proposition ; but it is 
a finished proposition, in all its parts and relations, as, I perceive [or love] this apple. In 
other words, we can analyze or separate only what the concrete or real presents in union. If 
the parts and connecting relations are not discerned together by an intuitive act, they can 
neither be separated nor united by any other act or process. The objects known by conscious- 
ness are intuitively known. All the materials which mediate or abstract knowledge evolves 
from these objects, the objects must be known already to involve. 

Herbart, and the psychologists of his school, deserve especial notice in this connection. This philoso- 
pher contends that it is by no means essential to every mental act or state that it should be distinguished 
as agent, act, and object. On the other hand, he insists that the reference of an act or state to the ego as 
the subject of it can only occur at a later and more advanced period of the mind's growth and development. 
It is the doctrine of his school that the knowledge of such an ego or subject is itself a product which is slowly 
developed and matured out of the materials that are furnished in previous mental experiences and states. 
Last of all, and as consistent with and fundamental to their other positions, they teach that every ele- 
mentary mental state is simple in its nature, and is the joint result of the mind itself as a simple substance 
and the occasion which calls it forth. 

It might seem at the first view that these opinions cannot justly be ascribed to the influence of material 
analogies, for, against these, the Herbartian school endeavors to secure itself by a principled opposition. 
They seem to rest rather on Herbart's peculiar logical or metaphysical system, which resolves all beings, 
both spiritual and corporeal, into ultimate elements or monads, the various relations of which to one 
auother are to be so determined as to be freed from all contradiction. Conjoined with this are certain 
assumptions in respect to the conditions and laws of mental phenomena, both in original apprehension 
and reproduction, which exclude the possibility of the complex character which we assume to be the neces- 
sary condition of every mental state. 

But while it is true that Herbart is professedly and distinctly an anti-materialist, it would not be diffi- 
cult to show that both his metaphysical system and his psychological analyses were formed under a strong 
desire to apply to mental phenomena the principles and laws on which the physical and mathematical 
sciences are founded. Indeed, it might be shown that the Herbartian psychology furnishes the most 
striking example, because it is at once the most consistent and complete of all similar systems, of the influ- 
ence of assumptions derived from physical philosophy. While it aims to recognize and do justice to the 
facts and phenomena that are peculiar to the soul— while it distinctly recognizes spiritual phenomena as 
opposed to the material and physiological conditions on which they depend— it does, by the principles and 
laws which it applies to their explanation, in fact exclude and rule out the very features which most strik- 
ingly distinguish the phenomena of spirit from the phenomena of matter. Those powers and operations of 
the soul, on the other hand, which are most nearly allied to those of matter, are accepted as explaining all 
the rest; which are resolved into and reduced back to these as furnishing both their constituent elements 
and their law-giving formula;. 

It is here in place to notice Herbart's doctrine concerning the simplicity of all original mental 
states, and the subsequent evolution, from such states, of the ego as their subject. We argue that this 
doctrine cannot be true, on the ground that, if it were, the act of memory would be impossible. An act of 
remembrance implies that a present state is connected with a past by the distinct knowledge that the same 
ego was the subject of both, and that this ego has continued to exist and be the subject of other states during 
the interval of time which has separated the two. By the theory of nerbart, memory would be impossible 
until the mind had attained to the knowledge of the self, as distinguished from, and yet as the subject of, 
its various separate states ; and also had connected those states together, as pertaining to an identical subject. 
On the other hand, the knowledge of the ego must itself depend on memory, and could not be developed 
without it ; for how could it be that the various states could be presented in such a way as to evolve the sel. 



§80. NATTTKAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 93 

and not self, and even the body and the not body, the ego and not ego, unless the states -were in some way 
connected together by some thread or bond of continuity, and thus so blended or complicated together as t<s 
form wholes and parts ? Herbart would reply, that the soul is a simple entity or substance, and that it k 
its simplicity which makes it possible that various objects or stimuli should be united in a single state. But 
how does the mind know itself to be simple or in a state, unless it can distinguish itself from its states 1 or 
how can it know its states, each as one, and all as following each other, unless it knows that its states be- 
long to itself— i. e., unless it distinguish its states from itself. In the order that marks either of these distinc- 
tions, it must first know that these states are true of itself— i. e., it must go so far as to distinguish itself at leasl 
from its own acts. This must be done by an original apprehension, or it cannot be done at all. No combina- 
tion of elements not already present, no repetition or addition of such elements, can account for or explain 
the presence of what is acknowledged in the later stage of mental development. They, must, therefore, hav« 
certainly been originally present, and may be set down as the essential constituents of every mental state. 

Th i i ents § ^* ^ u * though these elements are always recognized in 

not always view- eV ery object of which we are conscious — i. e., in every con- 
ed with equal jo > J 

attention. scious mental state — they are not regarded with equal atten- 

tion. At one time one is foremost in our notice, and seems to draw to 
itself the entire energy of the conscious act ; at another time another ele- 
ment is more distinctly apprehended. According as one or other of these 
elements receives the chief attention and is most absorbing, so is each 
state of consciousness definitely and peculiarly marked. It is worth while 
to notice how more or less of the recognized prominence of any one of 
these elements gives a peculiar character to the psychical state as observ- 
ing and as observed. We will consider the influence of each of these ele- 
ments singly and apart. 

8 80. First, let the souFs own activity be the special object 

The activity may ° . _ . Jl . x . , . , 

be chiefly no- oi its own conscious observation. We begin with this, be- 
cause all concede that this must be apprehended. Indeed, 
many contend that this is the sole object of the conscious act. 

The soul's own acts and states are continually changing, and if it is 
aware of any thing, it is aware of each present state or condition in which 
it finds itself. With this material or object-matter it is preeminently 
occupied. These it observes and remembers, and, if need be, classifies 
and records. Whether it knows itself or not, it must know its own acting 
and suffering. The states come and go, they rise and fall, they are vary- 
ing and restless as the waves of the ocean, each pushing forward the one 
that went before. The ego, if it is known at all, is known as persistent, 
intractable, identical. Moreover, these states are the products of its own 
energy, or the suffering or joyful experiences of its own sensibility. What 
can it be conscious of, if it knows not these ? Whether they are called 
states of knowledge, feeling, or will, each separate state is distinguished by 
a separate apprehension. For these reasons ifc will not be doubted that the 
operation or state of the soul is the appropriate object of consciousness — 
is the central element, the element par eminence, if the object is believed 
to be complex ; the sole object, if the object is conceded to be simple. 

The fact that in consciousness we are observant of the soul's subjective state, was first distinctly 
noticed and forcibly stated by Locke. Descartes, before him, had recognized and emphasized the truth thai 
through consciousness we are as distinctly cognizant of spiritual phenomena as we are of physical facts by 
cense. But it was Locke who asserted and emphasized the circumstance that what the mind apprehends 



94 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §80. 

by this power, i. e., reflection, is the soul's operations, and that it is of these operations, and only of these, 
that it gains the determinate ideas which he calls the ideas of reflection. To these operations Locke gave ex- 
clusive attention, including under them the feelings as well as the acts, (Essay ii. § 4,) overlooking their re- 
lations to the agent and the object. Since the time of Locke, it has passed into a positive dogma, that the 
soul in consciousness cognizes the operation only, and nothing besides. Thus Hume says: "For my part, when 
I enter most intimately into what I call myself, I always stumble on some particular perception or other, of 
heat or cold, light or shade, love or hatred, pain or pleasure. I never can catch myself at any time without 
a perception, and never can observe anything but the perception." — Human Nature, Part iv. sec. 2. "If any 
one, upon serious and unprejudiced reflection, thinks he has a different notion of himself, I must confess I 
can no longer reason with him. . . . He may, perhaps, perceive something simple and continued, which 
he calls himself, though I am certain there is no such principle in me." Dr. Thomas Reid says : " I am con- 
scious of perception, but not of the object I perceive ; 1 am conscious of memory, but not of the object I 
remember." But he guards himself against the conclusion drawn by Hume from their common assumption, 
by insisting that, though consciousness does not give us the intuition of self, yet we have a firm belief of 
the reality of the self, through a native and necessary suggestion, for " our sensations and thoughts do 
also suggest the notion of a mind, and the belief of its existence and of its relation to our thoughts."— In- 
quiry, chap. ii. § 7. Dugald Stewart says : " "We are conscious of sensation, thought, desire, volition, but we 
are not conscious of the existence of the mind itself. This is made known to us by a suggestion of the 
understanding consequent on the sensation, but so intimately connected with it that it is not surprising 
that our belief of both should be generally referred to the same origin."— Phil. Essays, p. i. e. i. Dr. Thomas 
Brown says of a special sensation, as of fragrance: " There will be, in the first momentary state, no separation 
of self audi the sensation, no little proposition formed in the mind— I feel, or, I am conscious of a feeling, but 
the feeling and the sentient I, will for the moment, be the same. If the remembrance of the former feeling 
arise, and the two different feelings be considered by the mind at once, it will now, by that irresistible law 
of our nature which impresses us with the conviction of our identity, conceive the two sensations which it 
recognizes as different in themselves, to have belonged to the same human being— that being to which, 
when it has the use of language, it gives the name of self, and in relation to which it speaks as often as it 
uses the pronoun I."— Lecture xi. Hamilton says : " On the other hand, as there exists no intuitive or imme- 
diate knowledge of self as the absolute subject of thought, feeling and desire, but, on the contrary, there is 
only possible a deduced, relative and secondary knowledge of self as the permanent basis of these transient 
modifications of which we are directly conscious, it follows," &c— Notes on Eeid, (H.,) p. 29, 6. This doctrine 
is entirely consistent with Hamilton's doctrine of the relativity of our knowledge, however incon- 
sistent it may be with other separate propositions or reasonings of Hamilton's.— Cf. Met. Lee. 19, ore Mental 
Unity. Mansel dissents from Hamilton on this point. See Proleg. Log.c.v. " I am immediately conscious of 
myself, seeing and hearing, willing and thinking." James Mill agrees with Brown etc.: " To say that I am 
conscious of a feeling, is merely to say that I feel it. To have a feeling is to be conscious, and to be con- 
scious is to have a feeling. To be conscious of the prick of a pin, is merely to have the sensation."— Analysis 
of the Human Mind, Chap. v. But he corrects himself in another passage, as follows : " The consciousness 
of the present moment is not absolutely simple, for whether I have a sensation or an idea, the idea of what 
I call myself is always inseparably combined with it. The consciousness, then, of the second of the two 
moments in the case supposed, [the case of remembering a preceding state,] is the sensation combined with 
the idea of myself, which compound I call ' myself sentient, ' " &c— Id. Chap. x. John Stuart Mill says, in 
the same strain : " My mind is but a series of feelings," and defines it as, "a thread of consciousness;" •• a 
series of feelings with a back- ground of possibilities of feeling."— Exam, of the Phil, of Hamilton, c. 12 ; cf. 
System of Logic, B. i. C. iii. § 8. 

The psychologists of the school of Condillac have followed in the same direction with the English suc- 
cessors of Locke, and have denied altogether that the soul is directly conscious of any thing besides its ope- 
rations. Those taught in the Scottish school, like Boyer Collard, have adopted the views expressed by Reid 
and Stewart, with this difference, that what these writers ascribe to suggestion, or its equivalent, Collard 
refers to natural induction. The more modern school of Cousin and his eclectic disciples, follow Maine de 
Biran in asserting that the soul has a direct consciousness of the ego, as well as of the ego in some form of 
activity or suffering. This is one of their cardinal and distinctive tenets. De Biran derived his views from 
the suggestions of Leibnitz, and this circumstance connects the schools of France with those of Germany. 

The German psychologists have, with the exceptions to be stated hereafter, agreed with Leibnitz in 
asserting that the soul knows not only its states, but itself as their subject in feeling and their agent in pro- 
ducing them. In the unity of self-consciousness the soul knows itself as well as its acts and states. "Without 
this reference of the states of the soul to the ego which is the subject of them, consciousness is inconceivable 
and impossible. Kant asserts this as a fact of our experience and a necessity of our nature as earnestly as 
any one, even though he questions the validity of the knowledge which is thus made necessary to the mind. 
He is entirely outspoken and confident when 2ie testifies concerning the facts which we experience, even 
though he finds metaphysical reasons for di&t/usting what we are certain that we distinguish and know. It 
Is true that this self of the " inner state," „i which, according to Kant, we are conscious, is only known as a 
phenomenon, and cannot (as indeed nothing can, according to his system) be known as it is in itself." 

Bcneke and Herbart are the most noticeable exceptions to this general characteristic of the Germaj 



§81. NATUKAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 95 

psychologists, and of these, Herhart has been most conspicuous in sturdily and even scornfully rejecting the 
doctrines on this subject that are usually received. Indeed, his views in respect to consciousness itself, 
would change completely our fundamental notions of the science of the soul, and require that in its methods 
of inquiry and the sources of its knowledge it should be entirely reconstructed. Herbart rejects entirely the 
opinion that the soul can be at the same time the observing agent and the observed object. He insists that this 
is logically contradictory, and metaphysically impossible. He therefore denies that the soul knows its own 
states in any proper sense of being directly aware of them when they occur. "What we call consciousness, 
is but reflective memory. Much more, therefore, must Herbart reject, as he does most contemptuously, the 
doctrine that the soul refers these states to the ego or the personal and identical self. He insists that the 
belief of the ego, and even the very conception of the ego as the subject of the psychical states, is an after- 
thought, the mature product of comparison and reflection, gained not by suggestion, nor by deduction, 
nor by a necessary and original law, but reached by comparison and analogy. 

§ 81. Second. Of the ego itself we are also directly con- 
Consciousness of scious. Not only are we conscious of the varying states and 

the ego. * * ° 

conditions, but we know them to be our own states ; i. 6., 
each individual observer knows his changing individual states to belong to 
his individual self, or to himself, the individual. The states we know as 
varying and transitory. The self we know as unchanged and permanent. 

It is of the very nature and essence of a psychical state to 
naturI e of a psy- be the act or experience of an individual ego. We are not 

first conscious of the state or operation, and then forced to 
look around for a something to which it is to be referred, or to which it 
may belong ; but what we know, and as we know it, is the state of an 
individual person. A mental state which is not produced or felt by an 
individual self, is as inconceivable as a triangle without three angles, or a 
square without four sides. This relation of the act or state to the self is 
not inferred, but is directly known. 

If it were not directly known, it could not be indirectly 

If not known, . . J . J 

could not be in- believed or inferred. What we infer and conclude is, in 

ferred, 

some cases, the product, or the educt, or result, of the mind's 
activity in comparing and inferring ; but we cannot conceive how that the 
soul should conclude or infer operations and states to belong to itself the 
observer, if it did not know this by direct inspection. 

The fact of memory proves it beyond all dispute. In every 

Proved by every ac t f memory we know or believe that the object now re- 
act of memory. r «> 

called was formerly before the mind ; in other words, I, the 
person remembering, did previously know or experience that which I now 
recall. But how could this be possible, if the first act or state was not 
known, when it occurred, to belong to the same ego which now recalls it 
and must have existed and have known itself to exist during the interven- 
ing time ? This same ego must have known or been conscious that the 
state was its own when it occurred ; otherwise it could never have remem- 
bered this state. But again, many acts of memory are required in order 
to gather the past operations or states together, before they are inferred 
to belong to one substance or substratum. In order to infer, we must 
have remembered ; and in order to remember, or rather in the act of 
remembering, we must have believed the very thing which we are said to 



06 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §82. 

infer. Nor is it true that, on occasion of many of these operations, tho 
reality of the subject of these operations is suggested or provided under a 
necessary law of the intelligence or reason ; for how could these opera- 
tions be recalled without memory ? and memory, as we have seen, implies 
the constant reassertion of the very knowledge which is in question. 

It will be found, moreover, that all those writers who deny or doubt this, do yet inci- 
Admitted by dentally betray their faith in the reality which they by words or reasonings oppose, 
those who deny Dr. Brown, who is so earnest in opposing it, cannot thread together the several experiences 
"• of the soul's life, without resorting to " the irresistible law of our nature which impresses 

us with the conviction of our identity," and James Mill himself is forced in one sentence 
to confess what he stoutly denied in another ; " for whether I have a sensation or an idea, the idea of what 
I call myself, is always inseparably combined with it." These are more or less distinct expressions for the 
direct knowledge of the ego which enters as an essential constituent into every conscious state of the soul. 

When we assert that the soul is conscious of itself, the actor, as truly as of its states or 
The relations to ac j. Sj we ^y no means assert that it makes the ego an object of attention or reflective 
ways^° reflected thought, or that it gains a scientific knowledge of its states or of its powers. Both these 
on. kinds of knowledge are reserved for a higher development and exercise of consciousness 

itself, as will be seen in its place. 
It has already been observed, that the knowledge of the self, or the ego, which is essentially involved in 
natural consciousness, is also susceptible of various degrees, which range from the feeblest and most rudi- 
mentary cognition which the soul can possibly have of itself, up to the most intense self-consciousness which 
can be reached by the most attentive introspection. The consciousness of the self, or ego, as it admits of 
various gradations, is also capable of development and growth, not in the sense that the ego, or self, is the 
product of a certain stage of the progress of intelligence so as not to have existed before, but that it is 
revealed to the mind more distinctly and in more numerous relations, as the requisite attention is applied. 

Least of all do we assert that the soul is directly conscious of that, in its 

The Ego, not the being or substance, which fits it to be the common ground or substratum of 
whole substance . , . , „ . x T . , , , . , . . Al , 

of the soul. its physical as well as its psychical phenomena, or which explains the rela- 

tions of the two. Consciousness knows nothing of the hidden relations 
of the soul to the body. Facts and relations of this sort are not given to consciousness at all, 
nor are they open to the soul's direct intuition. But whatever theory may be framed in 
respect to the substance of the soul, whether it be believed to be material or spiritual, the fact 
remains unquestioned that it knows its states to be its own, and in this knowledge knows 
itself as the subject of them. Whatever relation this known ego has to this imagined sub- 
stratum or essence, the fact remains unquestioned that the ego, as a being, is directly known 
to and by itself as a knowing agent. So far, and so far only, does consciousness testify. 

§ 82. Third, we inquire still further, What are the relations 
consciousness of f consciousness to the objects of the psychical acts and 

the object. « . , . . 

states ? Is the soul conscious of the objects as truly as it is 
of the states themselves ? When I gaze upon a landscape, and am de- 
lighted, am I conscious of the landscape which I see, as truly as I am con- 
scious of the act of seeing and of the delight which it gives ? It is con- 
tended by some that we are as truly and as properly said to be conscious 
of the object as of the subjective state. Others urge that it is a gross 
impropriety to say that we are conscious of the landscape, except in the 
general sense in which we use conscious as the equivalent of knowing. (§ 68.) 
The truth is, that we are conscious of the object somewhat as we are 
conscious of the ego. The state or operation is the central object of ap- 
prehension ; but as the state cannot occur nor be known except as having 



§ 83. NATURAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 91 

a relation to the unchanging ego, so each separate state is rendered deter* 
minate in part by its object. This is especially true if the state be pre- 
eminently a state of knowledge. We distinguish one state of knowledge 
from another by what we know ; e. </., in one moment I perceive a tree, 
in another a house, etc. How can I be conscious that I perceive a house 
or a tree, except by noticing the relation of the act itself to the house or 
tree? 

We do not say that the whole difference of a psychical state is thus determined ; for, to 
see a house may, purely as an act of knowledge, differ from the act of discerning that two 
straight lines cannot enclose a space. Besides, an act of knowledge never can occur by itself, 
pure and separate from all feeling, desire, and will. States of feeling and will are known to 
be purely subjective, and to pertain to the soul itself, and to the soul alone. These subjective 
elements attract the notice of consciousness preeminently, and these mark and individualize 
them to the soul's memory. But when they are described in language or recalled to the 
thoughts by an explicit statement, they are described by their objects. Even the state of the 
most absorbed feeling is indicated by the object or event which excited the emotion. We 
say, ' I was conscious that I saw the tree, or clearly discerned the mathematical truth,' or, ' I 
was conscious of keen and rapturous delight from the view or the anticipation.' We cannot 
conceive it possible that we should know that we know, enjoy, or choose, without knowing 
what we know, enjoy, or choose. In other words, in being conscious of an act or state, we 
must be conscious of the state or act in relation to, and as therefore including the object. 

From the fact that we cannot be conscious of the operation without being conscious of its relation to 
the object, Hamilton reasons thus : " Consequently consciousness is not a special faculty, but a faculty 
comprehending every cognitive act, or it must be held that there is a double knowledge of every object- 
first, the knowledge of that object by its particular faculty, and second, a knowledge of it by consciousness 
as taking cognizance of every mental operation."— Met. Lee. 12. To this we may reply, the dilemma is 
avoided by conceding that in every case of the kind adduced, viz.: in every act of sense-perception, we 
perceive the table or ink-stand, and we know, i. e., we are conscious, that we perceive the ink-stand. These 
two acts are distinguishable in thought, though not separable in fact. This Hamilton himself concedes and 
contends for. But we cannot perceive the table, without recognizing some relation of the act to the object. 
Nor can we be conscious of the act of perception, without being aware of some relation of tbe object perceived 
to the act of perceiving. When the chief energy of attention is expended upon the object— the material 
object — not without some recognition of its correlate, the act of perceiving, then we have, as nearly as -possi- 
ble, a pure act of sense-perception. But when the mind is mainly concerned with the act, not to the entire 
exclusion of the object, then tbe act is as nearly as possible an act of pure consciousness. Or if we suppose the 
same object, the table, to be continuously an object of sense-perception, and the attention to be varied from 
the process to the object, and conversely : then perception alternates with consciousness, the one never 
excluding tbe other, as is provided for in our definition, and as is attested by experience. As to the ques- 
tion whether consciousness is a special faculty, Hamilton himself concedes all that any one need contend 
for, when he says, {Lee. 13) : " We admit at once, that were the question merely whether we should not dis- 
tinguish under consciousness, two special faculties — whether we should not study apart, and bestow distinctive 
appellations on consciousnes considered as more particularly cognizant of the external world, and on con- 
sciousness as more particularly cognizant of the internal— this would be highly proper and expedient."— (Cf. 
Lee. 29.) The question is then one of nomenclature— (A) is consciousness to be used as a generic term= 
knowledge, of which the two, sense-perception and self-consciousness, or consciousness, are species ; or (B) 
is the appropriate generic term knowledge, with the two or more species under it, sense-perception, con- 
sciousness, etc., being coordinate with one another? Hamilton's theoretical answer to this question is quite 
inconsistent with his practice. In his theory he gives the answer (A) ; in his practical use of the terms and 
treatment of the subject, he follows (B). 

summary re- § 83, ^ e con clude then, thus : The object of consciousness 
specting the ob- j s a s ^ a ^ e or ac ^ f ^he soul ; this state or act must occur or 

lect of conscious- 7 

ness - exist in order that it may be known ; but it does not exist 

before it is known in the order of time, but only in the order of depend- 



98 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 84. 

ence, or of logical necessity. So far as the order of time is concerned, il 
exists while it is known. But what is known of this object must depend 
on the nature of the mutter to be known, and also on the reach or capacity 
of consciousness in its attentive inspection. 

A psychical act or state, as we have seen, is. in its nature complex, con- 
sisting of three elements in intimate relation to each other : the ego ; the 
object ; the acting or suffering of the passing moment. But the act or 
suffering is inconceivable, except as belonging to the ego and occasioned 
by the object. Of this double relation consciousness must take notice. It 
must, therefore, also take notice of the terms or elements to which it is 
related. 

a 8 84. We observe still further, that consciousness the obiect, 

The object of s . . » . . J ' 

consciousness is as contradistinguished from consciousness the act, is a state or 

a being. ... 

condition of being, as contrasted with an act of knowledge. 
It has already been asserted, that, to know, supposes and requires being 
as its objective correlate. The being, known by consciousness, is a spirit- 
ual being, a permanent identical agent or producer of states and acts 
which are known ; i. e., a being in the eminent and higher sense, substan- 
tial or real being (cf. P. IY. c. vii). This the mind knows to be, or to exist, 
by a direct or immediate act of its own. Consciousness as an act, is the 
energy of a knowing or thinking agent. Consciousness as an object, is the 
spiritual being discriminated from the act by which it is known, and dis- 
criminated as a being which is apprehended really to exist. In every state 
of consciousness, knowledge is directly confronted with being in the same 
psychical state, and the being which is known is affirmed to be identical 
with the being which knows. 

The saying of Descartes, Cogito, ergo sum, has preeminent 
of °cogito, ergo propriety and obvious truth when applied to the act of con- 
sciousness. It means more than, I find myself a thinking 
being, and therefore I, the thinking being, exist ; but it means conscius sum, 
that is, I know directly the activities of a being, which being is myself ; 
its existence I directly apprehend and affirm. It has been said with emi- 
nent truth that absolute skepticism is incompatible with the act of con- 
sciousness ; because, if I doubt or question any reality, or whatever reality 
I doubt or question, I cannot doubt or question that I myself doubt or 
question. The same truth is more strikingly confirmed by the view 
already taken, that in consciousness as the act there must be present and 
known consciousness as the object ; and this object is a substantial exist- 
ing being, known or affirmed by the ~ r ery act of consciousness to exist. 

Not only is absolute skepticism excluded by the analysis of the act of con. 

Skepticism em- sciousness, but absolute idealism is excluded as trulv and as effectually. The 
phatically ex- . . , , , . , . ' _.. 

eluded. object of consciousness is not a thought-object, but a thing-object. The 

being known is not a phantasm, or notion, or spiritual product, but it is a 

substance, the self, or ego, existing in some definite state or condition. In consciousness, I am 



§85. NATURAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 99 

confronted not with a thought, but with a being. "Whatever else may be unreal — whethei 
idea, phantasm, or speculation; this acting and suffering self is a reality — not a mere 
phenomenon as contrasted with a transcendental ego, nor an ego inferred, assumed, or sug 
gested, but an ego directly known to be. 

The mind, in an act of consciousness, does not create the state or conditioi 
actdoes notfcre- which it knows to be. It only creates the act, so far as it knows the act 01 
ate its object by s ^ a ^ e ^ ^^ rp na ^ which is known, is produced by another activity of the 

same being. The states or conditions of being of which we are conscious 
often spring up unexpectedly, as it were, beneath our feet, or they break in upon the field 
of view unannounced, and they are often very unwelcome. Often their existence and presence 
are beyond our control. The being of whose states we are conscious is also often in no sense 
an actor or producer, but a sufferer and receiver. In such suffering and passive conditions 
of being, the most obvious of which are bodily sensations, the being which we know, is easily 
and strikingly contrasted with the acts by which it is conscious of its passive or recipient con- 
dition, if it be not known as acted upon by other beings also. 

§ 85. The reality and validity of being is not only thus 
tions aiso°estab- established, because involved in the apprehension of con- 
sciousness, but the relations of being are as necessarily af- 
firmed in the same activity. The several states of the soul are not only 
discriminated as diverse from one another, but they are known to be like 
and unlike. They are also known to be produced by the soul which is 
conscious, or knows, that they exist ; that is, they are known under the 
relation of causation. 

In view of these facts, we need not wonder that even the 
Tbe soul a mi- ancient philosophers counted the human soul, thus known 

crocosm. L a l ' 

by and to itself, to be a microcosm or epitome of the great 
universe. In the spirit of man, and in the exercise of the simplest and 
the most essential of its powers, thought and being are both conjoined ; 
the one is confronted with the other, the one is essential to the other. 
Thought is perpetually springing out of being, and apprehending being to 
exist — not only simple being, but being in all its forms of activity and the 
relations which they involve. 

We shall not be surprised to find that all the conceptions which are necessary 

All tbe catego- to scientific knowledge — those categories which cannot be proved, but which 
nes involved in ° . ° , r \ 

consciousness. must be assumed — those prime relations and first truths on which all our 

higher intelligence of matter or spirit depends, are affirmed of spiritual being 
in the act of consciousness itself. It is natural to man to make himself the measure of the 
universe — i. e., to take the little universe of being, which he knows so directly and so well, 
with the relations involved, to be the analogon of the greater universe which lies beyond, and 
which is more indirectly known. At all events, whatever relations and facts he finds it neces- 
sary to affirm of his own being, he will not hesitate to apply to the whole universe without. 
This is the process by which many explain our belief in these categories or first truths. 

Many go further, and find not only in this microcosm an image of the larger 

Man assumed to finite universe beyond, but also an analogon of its Creator. As man in con- 
be tbe image of " 

God. sciousness thinks this world of being into thought, thus producing a thought- 

world by his creative power, under the limitations which are imposed by the 
materials, both objective and subjective, which his nature as existing and knowing, impose 

LOFC. 



100 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §86. 

* 

jpon him, it is only needful for him to conceive these limits removed, and he forms to himself 
a conception of the God in whose image he was made : and by the fact that he exists in His 
image he is able to understand the properties and laws of the universe of both matter and 
mind as he interprets in them the thoughts of its Creator. 

§ 86. It has been already stated that consciousness, though 

Development 

and growth of natural and necessary to every human soul whose powers are 
normally developed, is not exercised at the beginning of its 
existence, but only after certain conditions and stages of growth have 
been attained, and the power to apply them has been matured. The order 
of this development and maturity may be sketched as follows : 

The first activities are those of simple life. These, whether they pertain to 

the body or the soul, are unconscious. All forms of reflex nerve-action, all 
Unconscious life. , ,... />.-.,-. 

the purely instinctive movements of either body or soul, or of both com- 
bined, are known to be unattended by conscious apprehension. But all these 
activities are exercised in great number and for a long time before the experience of sensations. 
As soon as a sensation occurs, whether painful or pleasant, it must be felt. 
Sensations and It is essential to its very nature to be experienced by a sentient being, and to 
self-feeling. ^e felt as painful or pleasant. This experience, whether in man or animal, 

involves some sort of possible apprehension of self as the subject of its pain or 
pleasure. This is not consciousness, real or possible, as we use the term, but only conscious- 
ness in its lowest and most rudimentary form. By some it is called the feeling as distin- 
guished from the knowledge of self, or self-feeling in its beginnings. In order that conscious- 
ness in its lowest stage should occur, the several sensations should not only be experienced, but 
they must be discriminated from one another as this and that, the sensation as now and then, 
the sensation as sweet and bitter, cold and hot ; and this sensation of sweet, thai sensation 
of bitter, etc., etc. As long as the sensations are confused together, and are not discriminated, 
whether they are weak or strong, the soul remains in this elementary condition of comparative 
unconsciousness. This is the condition of the infant. It is also the condition into which the de- 
veloped man relapses in swooning, distraction, intoxication, or approaching sleep. In the infant 
such a condition cannot be remembered, for reasons which we will give in their place (§ 295). 
The man can recall it but dimly, and only as he measures and imagines the state, by contrast 
with those of which he is distinctly conscious, and which he can clearly recall. 

But when the several sensations are discriminated from one another, the soul 
Sensations dis- reaches a higher stage. But even this does not involve consciousness, unless 
criminated. ^ie sensations are also discriminated from the self to which they pertain. 

Observation attests that the one is possible without the other. Even the 
external objects that occasion the sensations, may be distinguished from one another and from 
the sensations which attend them, before the soul distinctly recognizes the sensations as its 
own. No fact is more patent to universal observation, than that, in infancy and childhood, 
man is occupied with the objective, with very infrequent cognition of self as contrasted with 
his sensations or their objects, or the impulse that carries the feelings and actions without. It 
would seem that all the impulses that follow the bodily sensations — e. ff., the animal appetites 
— carry the soul still further outward, and hold and hinder it more effectually from the recog- 
nition of its own being or agency. Even the man who has outgrown this condition, and been 
raised above it by refinement and moral culture, sometimes falls back into it. " Every man 
can occasionally catch himself in the state of losing himself in the act of eating or seeing, 
and, as it were, burying his consciousness in the function of some single organ of sense. 
States of this sort have always in them something of the animal." — Helferrich, Org> d, 
iriss., p. 83. 



§86. STATURAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 101 

As soon as feelings of another character are experienced — emotions proper, 
Emotions distin- and not sensations, emotions which are perhaps antagonistic to sensations and 
sensations. fl ° m tneir im P ulses — tne opportunity is presented for the soul to distinguish its 
• own agency, and itself as an actor or sufferer, as contrasted with itself as purely 

sentient ; i. e., carried out of itself by its sensations and appetites. It now furnishes in itself 
ihe condition for that reflex act which we call the conscious discrimination of its states as its 
own. It now can know itself as an actor and sufferer. The act of consciousness is not 
explained by its conditions. It is not developed from nor produced by these conditions. But 
it does not occur before these conditions are furnished, and these conditions do not exist till 
the soul has reached a stage of development that is somewhat advanced. When these con- 
ditions do present themselves, the act of consciousness is performed, in and by which it dis- 
cerns its object to be. In other words, under these conditions, consciousness the act and con- 
sciousness the object, as we have described them, are possible and actual. 

The first step which, the child makes toward the cognition of self, is to distinguish its body from other 
bodies and other persons. "When it knows its name it applies it first to its body, and usually speaks ot 
this self in the third person. It is a great step forward when it can use the pronoun I, a step not taken 
till the child has developed decided wishes, and some exhibition of character, in the form of emotion, 
passion, or purpose. Jean Paul Richter records of himself: "Never shall I forget the phenomenon in 
myself, never till now recited, when I stood by the birth of my own self-consciousness, the place and time 
of which are distinct in my memory. On a certain forenoon I stood, a very young child, within the house- 
door, and was looking out toward the wood-pile, as, in an instant, the inner revelation, « I am I,' like light- 
ning from heaven, flashed and stood brightly before me ; in that moment had I seen myself as I, for the 
first time and forever ! " 

The baby, new to earth and sky, 

What time his tender palm is pressed 
Against the circle of the breast, 
Has never thought that this is I. 

But as he grows, he gathers much, 

And learns the use of I and me, 

And finds I am not what I see, 
And other than the things I touch ; 
So rounds he to a separate mind, 

From whence clear memory may begin, 

As thro' the frame that binds him in, 
His isolation grows defined. 

Tennyson.— In Memoriam, xliv. 

The object discerned by the act of consciousness is not, as we have already 
The self not the observed, the soul itself, as a substance or subject, with all its capacities and 
ego. powers ; for, besides those which consciousness apprehends, there are those 

which it does not reach. Even the cause or source of many which it does 
discern are beyond its direct cognition. In all of these operations the sentient nature acts 
out of sight, receiving or rejecting those objects for which Nature has or has not adapted its 
action. Even after the soul acts and appears as the ego, and, as such, is the conscious subject of 
its higher acts, it also acts as the unconscious subject of many others. As the subject of many 
similar acts and states objectively known to the conscious ego, is it called the self; as the 
agent which is actor, and also conscious of individual acts, is it called the ego, or I. Pre- 
eminently is it the ego, or I, when it makes itself manifest as the regulator or controller of the 
blind impulses and desires by an act of will. This ego is known as identical with itself. It is 
the same ego which yesterday and to-day observes the changing states of the identical self 
which it makes the object of its knowledge ; otherwise it could not connect these states as 
past and present, as experienced now and remembered yesterday. It could not regard them 
as its own. It could not combine them as similar into a concept, nor unite them in a class. 
Above all, it is the same ego when it holds the same purpose unchanged, and can repress and 
overcome its own changing moods, and the solicitations of others, by an unvarying and con 
tinued purpose. 



102 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 86 

The act of conscious self-apprehension may also be more or less frequently 
Differences iu exercised by different men, after the capacity for it has been reached. The con- 
individuals. ditions for its exercise, after the power has been matured, may be more or 

less favorable. First, the objective conditions may be more ampfe and ener- 
getic in one man than in another. The corporeal nature of one may so hold the spirit by 
obtrusive and engrossing sensations as to preclude the possibility of that discrimination which 
Is the first condition of conscious knowledge. Thus the body of the idiot or the half-witted 
may so preoccupy the energies as to detain it almost in the animalized state. Moral obliquity, 
especially in early life, may almost literally brutify or animalize its condition. Various mor- 
bid conditions of the body may come in at an early period of the soul's development to arrest 
its natural progress, by filling up its experience with continued sensations of weakness and pain 
Even a low energy of vital force may give to consciousness only feeble sensational activity and 
inert impelling forces, which are too unobtrusive to elicit discriminating cognition. The occupa- 
tions, cares, and interests may be so material and sordid, as to fill up the life with activities 
that are solely objective. The psychical nature of one person may also be far richer and more 
varied in its capacities than that of another, furnishing the material for conscious observation 
that is comparatively copious and inviting. Second, the subjective capacity of conscious activity 
differs in degrees in different persons. The natural power, the acquired facility, and the incli- 
nation to look inward, are stronger in some than in others ; and hence in some men that is a 
passion which in others is rarely and ineffectually performed. Nature, habit, and art exhibit 
surprising diversities and contrasts in this respect. 

This leads us to repeat the remark already made, that the capacity for con- 

The capacity for sciousness is not the product of accidentaLconditions or circumstances, nor is 

consciousness r ** ' 

not developed. it the result of any development from any lower existence, but is provided 

in the nature of man and the designs of his creator. The brute is not self- 
conscious under the most favorable circumstances, nor can he become so as the result of any 
development whatever. He may be like man in the lower stages of being, in the experience 
of what we call bodily sensations and animal appetites ; but he never discriminates one sensa- 
tion from another by a self-conscious act, simply because he has not the capacity. Much less 
does he distinguish the self from its states, because there is no self and no states to be thus 
distinguished. Hence he cannot, in the proper sense of the word, remember, nor generalize, 
nor reason, nor judge, so far as these involve the reference of acts or objects to himself by 
appropriate acts and products. He cannot purpose or choose, for a similar reason. Neither 
the objective conditions of these acts are furnished in his own nature, nor is the subjective 
capacity to discern them. 

This leads us to repeat what has before been said, that consciousness as act 
Consciousness and object, though developed in the progress of the soul's history, is not in 
circumstances, any sense a phenomenon produced by the soul's powers in connection with 

certain objects or conditions. Consciousness as an act, or power to act, is the 
poorer to know what actually exists. The power to know does not make that to exist which is 
simply known to be. The object of consciousness is not a phenomenon or phase of the soul, 
but the soul itself as at last apprehended in its higher relations, and as exercising its nobler 
activities. The fact that this ego, or self, is also capable of other activities of which it is not 
conscious ; the fact that it acts as vital force in forming and nourishing matter as, and into the 
body — which facts are not known to consciousness — do not disprove the more important activi- 
ties which consciousness does apprehend, nor do they make nor prove that what consciousness 
does know — viz., the self, or the ego — has not real being. The order and law of knowing is not 
the order or law of being. The fact that the power of the soul to know itself is developed 
last of all in the oi'der of time, docs not cause what is known to come into being at the time 
when it is known, nor its being to result from any process of development at all. The soul ir 
consciousness knows a fact ; it does not make the fact to be. 



§ 87. NATUEAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 103 



§87. The question has been discussed of late among English 

Latent modifica- e ' . ^ • , f * 

iions cf con- psychologists, whether there can be any latent modifications 

sciousress. r / . mt ...„■,.. 

of consciousness. The phrase is infelicitous, because ap- 
parently self-contradictory — a latent modification of that which, in its very 
essence, is an act or an object of knowledge, being apparently, both in 
term and thought, impossible. The truth which the phrase was designed 
to describe is, however, real and important, and deserves to be clearly 
stated. That the soul may act without being conscious of what it does, or even 
that it acts at all, has been already established. That these unconscious acts 
affect those acts of which it is conscious, and their objects, is also evident. 
A sharp distinction has been made between those processes by which the 
soul, so to speak, prepares objects for its conscious apprehension, and the 
acts of knowing these objects when thus, prepared. It is equally clear 
that the soul, by acting consciously, prepares products which it can pre- 
serve and can recall, and that, by acting often and energetically, it strength- 
ens the power to preserve and recall, by processes which it cannot con- 
sciously follow out nor explain. All the effects of this kind of its con- 
scious acts, are accomplished by modifications of the soul which are latent 
— i. e.) unknown to the direct inspection of consciousness. 

Many of the instances cited of such modifications, are only 

Consciousness _ . . 

susceptible of examples 01 objects observed with less attention — objects 
comparatively unheeded, which may be afterward revived 
with greater distinctness. For example, I write hastily, to-day, a word or 
a phrase which is incorrect or ungrammatical. I do not notice the error, 
but I recall it to-morrow, and notice the mistake by an act of memory. 
Or, I see a person, and, at the time, do not notice some article of his dress 
or some peculiarity in his look or language, but recall either distinctly on 
reflection. Or some part of a total perception, as of a crowded and active 
company, or a varied landscape, apparently escapes my notice. It is a 
mere accessory, a subordinate, quite overlooked in comparison with the 
central figures or objects ; and yet it may serve as a link in the restoration 
of a train of connected objects. These objects are not latent, though 
very little attended to. The processes which they affected were, as all the 
processes of recalling by association are, wholly out of consciousness ; 
consciousness being only capable of discerning and recognizing objects 
when presented, but being wholly unable to follow the act by which A is 
connected with B, or by which B subsequently brings A before the con- 
scious mind. 

Leibnitz (Nbuveaux JZssais, ii. c. i.) cites the case of the sound of the sea as an example. A 
single wave does not affect the ear, but only many, when combined. And yet each wave must 
contribute its share in affecting the conscious mind, or the whole could not be heard. A dis- 
tinction is to be made in this instance between the impulse of a single wave upon the organ 
of hearing, and the experience of the sensation. The action of many waves together may be 
required to bring the organ into that condition which effects the sensation in question, or any 



104 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §89 

other. To the total effect upon the organ each wave may contribute its part, without moving 
the consciousness in the least, even latently. 

The general truth cannot, however, be controverted, that the unconscious and conscioua 
processes of the soul act and react on each other continually, and that neither should be over- 
looked in the science which explains its phenomena. Consciousness, though the most impor- 
tant, is not the only source of our knowledge of the soul, and its powers and laws. 



CHAPTER H. 

THE KEFLECTIVE, OR PHILOSOPHICAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 

Hitherto we have considered consciousness as the common endowment and universal charac- 
teristic of the human race. Every human being is capable of being conscious of his 
psychical states. Every man who is normally developed becomes actually conscious of 
these states at a very early period of his existence. The exercise of this power connects 
him with his kind by the capacity for human sympathy. It enables him to recognize as 
true the descriptions of human experience which are given by the dramatist, the novelist, 
and the philosopher. It qualifies him to try the statements and theories of the philoso- 
pher at the court of ultimate appeal — i. <?., bis own conscious experience. This is natu- 
ral, or primary consciousness. 

The reflective § ^' ^ e nave 5 however, distinguished and defined another 
contrasted with species of consciousness. This is the artificial, or secondary 

the natural con- *■ ','■'■', . ' 

sciousness. consciousness, and it is attained by comparatively few. 

Though all men can understand and appreciate the descriptions and 
appeals of the dramatist and the orator, there are but few who can origi- 
nate and apply them. Though all men experience the phenomena which 
the philosopher records, classifies, and accounts for, and in a certain sense 
can judge of the truth of his assertions, there are few who observe these 
phenomena with reflection even by such aid; and the number is very small 
who can originate an analysis or comparison. The consciousness which 
understands and assents, is, in some important respects, distinguished from 
that which discovers and proves. And yet the one power must have an 
intimate relation to the other ; else the truth which the philosopher origi- 
nates would be beyond the reach of the man who receives and assents to 
it. The consciousness which discovers and teaches is properly called the 
philosophical and reflective consciousness. These characteristics may 
serve to distinguish the two species of consciousness in general ; but we 
ask more particularly, ' What is the reflective consciousnesss ? and w T hat 
are its relations to the natural consciousness ? ' In answer to the first of 
the questions we say : 

§ 89. The reflective consciousness is the natural conscious- 
consciousness ness exercised with earnest and persistent attention. It lias 

already been shown that every intellectual power may be 






§ 89. THE REFLECTIVE, OR PHILOSOPHICAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 105 

used with a greater or less degree of energy. We have also seen that the 
development of the natural consciousness through its successive stages is 
but the development of an increase of attention. When this habit is car- 
ried to a still higher degree of energy, and the subjective states and 
activities become as familiar and as frequent objects of contemplation as 
material objects are to the mass of men, then consciousness is transformed 
into reflection. The natural and the spontaneous becomes the artificial 
and reflective consciousness. 

That the ordinary consciousness should be intensified to the extraordinary, is not entirely 
strange to the experience of men who are habitually unaccustomed to reflection upon them- 
selves and their own psychical processes. It not infrequently happens that the inattentive and 
unreflecting, is so startled by the fire and energy of his own feelings, as to look in upon him- 
self with wonder. Or perhaps such a man is surprised to see in some feat of memory, some 
sally of the imagination, or some sagacious conjecture, a revelation of internal power and 
resources of which he had never dreamed, and which has astonished him, somewhat as the 
vein of silver is said to have astonished the savage who caught at a shrub and exposed the 
lode beneath, that led to the mines of Potosi. Such revelations have been to many a boy 
and man the beginning of a new life. 

It may help us still further to accept the possibility and to understand the nature of con- 
sciousness as modified by attention, to consider it in the two forms of the morbid and the 
ethical self-consciousness. 

The morbid or the abnormal self-consciousness is that kind or degree of atten- 
sciou^mess C °in" t ^ on to one ' s own psychical states which interferes with the normal use and 
children and development of the powers; which is inconsistent with the health, the com- 
fort, and the successful activity of the body or the soul. Children are 
appointed by nature to an objective, and, in one sense, an animal life. The soul needs to be 
tiius occupied, to accumulate the stores of facts and dates, or words and phrases, which it may 
ufterward turn to a higher use. The imagination naturally constructs and invents with cre- 
ative affluence, and it colors and gilds whatever it creates. But now and then a child, through 
un unfortunate bias, or some ill-judged training, has been led to look inward upon itself with 
unnatural precocity. As a consequence, the subjective predominates over the objective, the 
)power to reflect excludes the power to acquire; and that easy and spontaneous play of observa- 
tion, memory, imagination, wit, and invention, which is the strength and the charm of child- 
hood, is excluded or hindered. 

Among adults many examples occur of a morbid or unnatural attention to the inner life. 
Hypochondriacs, who are haunted by disturbing sensations which come from some bodily dis- 
ease, till their attention is so absorbed in watching their sensations that it cannot respond to 
the objects that are fitted to amuse and inspirit them, furnish one example. Men who have 
inherited or indulged a sensitive nature till it has become their tyrant ; who watch their feel- 
ings with a selfish exclusiveness, or who pamper them with a dainty fastidiousness, become, 
like Rousseau, half insane through brooding over their own exaggerated sufferings and wrongs. 
Hamlet is a striking example of an affectionate and heroic nature, shocked by the occurrence 
of a terrible calamity, that first forced him to be suspicious of his fellow-men, and then taught 
him to distrust himself, till his " native hue of resolution " was " sicklied o'er with the pale 
cast of thought." Skeptics, whether philosophical or religious— men who carry the impulse to 
question and investigate to the excess of distrust and doubt — usually terminate their career of 
distrust by turning their eyes inward upon the workings of their own souls, and find there the 
amplest field for questioning the validity of the laws of their own being and the facts of theii 
own consciousness. 



108 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 91. 

Another type of the abnormal consciousness is that which results from an egoistic thought- 
fulness of one's appearance, manners, words, looks, actions, or achievements, which shows itself 
in the countless forms of affectation that are displayed in society, as well as in literature. Thej 
all have this common feature, that the person thinks more of himself than is wise or healthful. 
So common has this become in the artificial society of modern times, that it has given a new 
sense to the words conscious and consciousiiess, with and without self as the prefix. 

The ethical type is that attention to one's inner states which is applied in 
The ethical con- Yiew °^ a mora l standard, for the purposes of self-correction and self-improve- 
sciousness. ment. In order to judge one's self, a person must know or examine himself. 

He must attend to his own thoughts and feelings, so far as is requisite for 
these ends. This is so obviously required, that the word reflection, which originally signified the 
reflex action of the soul upon itself, has acquired a secondary signification, in its use and appli- 
cation for ethical purposes. This kind of reflective consciousness always brings with it some 
intellectual discipline. The person who habitually scrutinizes his motives and examines his 
feelings in the light of the law of duty and of God, cannot but cultivate and strengthen his 
intellect by the process, however humble may be his calling and illiterate his education. 
Christianity has trained the intellect of the human race to this activity, and hence has been so 
efficient in educating and elevating the masses of men, even when it has furnished no special 
intellectual culture. 

8 90. The type of the reflective consciousness with which 

The scientific ° f \ • . . . ; ' 

reflective con- we are specially concerned is that which is properly called 
philosophical, because used for scientific ends. It has this in 
common with the types already referred to, that it involves attention as 
its special and essential element. But the attention must be employed in 
a peculiar way, with distinct reference to peculiar ends, and with the aid 
of special appliances, if it is to yield important scientific results. Its 
characteristics are the following : 

• • §91. First: It is persistent in its observations. It not only 

Characterised by ° x ,.,.. , 

persistent atten- attends to the phenomena of the soul as mcmiation or duty 
may decide, but it attends continuously, with the definite 
aims of careful observation and accurate remembrance. But how can the 
mind attend continuously to the same mental state ? Of material objects 
many of the phenomena are permanent ; they address the senses as being 
the same objects. We can observe them again and again, till we are certain 
that we have attained a definite impression, and can bring away a satisfy- 
ing recollection. But the mental object is but for an instant. If we look 
for it, in order that we may look at it the second time, it is not there. It 
existed only so long as, by our own act, we gave it being ; and when that 
activity is intermitted, the object which we would fain examine by a 
second look is no longer and nowhere to be found. The only resource 
which we have, is to prolong the state by continually renewing or repeat- 
ing it. To this act or effort of prolongation Locke gives the name of 
retention, and this he describes as a peculiar mental act (Essay, B. ii. 
c. x. § 1). But can we prolong a single state beyond its assigned period 
of time ? Is not a single state limited to a definite period of duration ? 
The question is trivial, and it is of no consequence how it is answered. 



§92. THE REFLECTIVE, OE PHILOSOPHICAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 101 

Whether we can prolong a state or not, we can certainly repeat it agair 
and again, allowing no other activity to intervene. As we thus repeat the 
activity in a series of similar acts, we present to our consciousness sub- 
stantially the same object, and so secure an opportunity for bestowing 
upon it that continuous or sustained attention which is essential to exact 
observation. What we fail to notice at one look, we catch by another . 
What we only faintly apprehend at the first sight, we fix and confirm by 
the second. What we observe incorrectly or partially in one act, we dis- 
cern truly and completely in the act which follows. This retention or 
repetition of the object becomes the condition of the continuity of the act 
of consciousness, and hence it is a distinguishing characteristic of the 
philosophic consciousness. It is because the mind does, as it were, turn in 
upon itself, that this effort of consciousness is termed reflection — i. e., the 
bending back or retortion of the soul on itself. It is because this repe- 
tition of the object, or retortion in the act, is found to be practically 
necessary, in order to any accurate and successful observation of con- 
sciousness, that consciousness the act, has been supposed to be a remem- 
brance, a sort of second thought, and the power has been resolved into 
memory (§ 75). Second-thinking is, indeed, necessary to reflective con- 
sciousness ; and not only second-thinking, but a sustained and continued 
application of the attention to the continuously repeated act. 

Other advantages are secured by this repetition of the mind's activity, and one especially, 
that it is capable of being viewed more coolly. When the soul first goes forth into an act, it? 
conscious apprehension of what it does or suffers is inversely as the direct energy by which it 
produces it. If it reproduces its like immediately, this may be entirely similar to the original in 
the kind, and yet greatly unlike it in the degree of its energy, leaving the remainder of the soul's 
energy to be employed in the reflex attention to it. If I am absorbed by the beauty of a 
splendid picture, or a glorious sunset, I shall not be likely, when these objects first break upon 
my sight, to give much attention to the act or process by which I view them in order to ascer- 
tain their exact nature, or to the emotion with which I am literally rapt or carried out of myself, 
to discover whether there is more of delight or wonder. But when my curiosity is satisfied, 
and my feelings are calmer, then I have some energy to withdraw from the act of seeing and 
the feeling of admiration, which I can employ in reflex attention to the act and the emotion. 
But even in the energy of my first perception and the tumult of my first emotion, I noticed 
these very states sufficiently to remember that they were like the less excited and absorbed states 
that follow, which allow the chief energy of the soul to be employed in reflex attention. Facts 
like these throw a flood of light on the necessity of repeated activities of the soul, in order 
both to furnish the subject-matter for its reflex action, and in order to enable it to reflect with 
profit. 

8 92. Second : The philosophical consciousness is compre- 

It attends to all f . . . _ \ £ . . . . \ 

the psychical nensive in its observations. It brings witnm its neld of view 
all the phenomena of the soul. Its object being to know all 
its powers, it must of course consider and attend to all its phenomena. 
The philosopher may not, like the man of morbid or abnormal tendencies, 
give an exclusive and one-sided regard to certain feelings, or to a few spe- 
cies of intellectual acts ; but he must regard all the variety of experience? 



108 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 94. 

of which his being is capable, omitting none, being partial to none, doing 
full justice to each and to all — to each in its separate agency, and to all in 
their mutual and conspiring harmony. This principle is so obviously just 
and fundamental, that no reasons need be given to justify or enforce it. 
It is accepted as a cardinal maxim of the inductive method; to whatever 
object-matter this method is applied. To scientific knowledge of every 
sort, it is essential that all the facts should be fairly considered. Nature is 
an honest witness, and stands pledged to tell not only the truth, but the 
whole truth. Those who examine the witness are equally bound to hear 
the whole truth, and to open their minds to attentively consider it. 

§ 93. Third : The philosophical consciousness attends to 
Compares and psychical phenomena, in order that it may compare them ; 

classifies them. *\ . r , . -, J , . . ' 

and it compares these phenomena, m order that it may unite 
those which are alike, and distinguish those which are unlike. Its aim is 
scientific knowledge ; and science is knowledge that is comparative and 
discriminating. In other words, it is classified and arranged knowledge. 
Or it may be defined as facts seen in their widest and most comprehensive 
relations. It is not sufficient that we attend to the facts of the soul apart ; 
we must compare them together, in order that they may be classed and 
distinguished, and reduced to the order and symmetry of a completed 
system. 

The power to discern relations sharply, surely, and quickly, may to a certain extent be a 
special endowment or gift of nature. Its successful exercise or application, however, is the 
result of attentive comparison. The observer must bring the facts together, placing them side 
by side. He must then look at them in their connections, leaving the various relations to sug- 
gest themselves. He must also unite those which are alike, and discriminate those which are 
unlike. By whatever method or from whatever source the facts of the soul come to notice, 
whether by reading, memory, or observation, they must, when present, be brought together by 
ihe comparing attention. 

§ 94. Fourth : The philosophical consciousness interprets the 
explains them phenomena which it unites and discriminates. In other 
\LfT^ words, it explains them by a reference to powers and laws. 

The classification of phenomena is a condition of science, rather than sci- 
ence itself. It is science begun, but not science completed. The object 
of science is to ascertain what is familiarly called the nature, essence, or 
constitution, whether of the material or the spiritual beings with which it 
has to do. It may not be easy to define what is intended by these terms 
(§ 426). It is obvious, however, that something more is meant than a 
bundle of classified phenomena. They are suj)posed to indicate or reveal 
some power which the being possesses. The phenomenon is to the power 
as an effect is to its cause. The power is conceived as a capacity to cause 
some result or phenomenon. Hence science is said to be the investigation 
of causes, principles, or powers. The scientific consciousness, therefore, 
reflects, that it may refer phenomena to their causes or powers, in the soul. 



§ 95. THE REFLECTIVE, OE PHILOSOPHICAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 109 

But powers, whether material or spiritual, do not act except under conditions. Soma 
other being, agent, or condition, must be present in order that the power may be actuall) 
exercised. The soul, though self-active, as has been explained, is yet dependent on material 
conditions for the beginnings of its activity, and for many of the objects which direct this 
activity. But inasmuch as the soul is self-active, it is also very largely dependent on itself for 
the conditions of its acting. But whatever these conditions are, and whencesoever they origi- 
nate, they must be ascertained, in order that the philosophical consciousness should complete 
Us work and attain its appropriate objects. 

But again : The powers or agents of nature act according to laws. 
These laws are fixed methods or rules according to which phenomena 
occur, when the conditions of their presence are furnished. The laws of 
the soul are, therefore, to be discovered and established, in order that the 
science of the soul may be complete, and the objects of the philosophical 
consciousness may be accomplished. We have already adverted to the 
reasons which lead us to presume that the essence, the acts, and the laws 
of the soul differ from those which belong to matter and are the subject? 
of the physical sciences. That the soul has laws of its own, is highly 
probable ; but the duty is none the less imperative to discover and fiy 
these laws, whatever they may be. 

We have already answered the question, whether there is not one 
method common to both spiritual and material phenomena, viz., the induc- 
tive method, whose principles and maxims have long been fixed and ac- 
knowledged. There is but one method of inquiry for the two classes 
of objects ; but it is one of the fundamental principles of this method, that 
full and complete justice should be done to the powers and laws which are 
appropriate to any class of agencies, provided that their existence and 
action can be fairly proved — i. e., can be established on satisfactory evi- 
dence, and reveal themselves to the appropriate means of observation. It 
is also not to be forgotten, that the analysis of psychological phenomena 
involves at last an analysis of the processes and laws of induction itself; 
giving thus to psychology a profounder import and importance than be- 
longs to any material science. 

Peiations of the § 95, ^ ur secon ^ inquiry respected the relations of the natu- 
thenaturai a con° ra ^ *° ^ e philosophical consciousness. These relations need 
sciousness. ^ fog m0 re fully considered. It has already been explained 

that all the phenomena of the soul which are used by the philosopher in a 
completed science, occur under the eye of the natural consciousness. 
Neither the natural, nor the reflective consciousness creates these facts ; 
they only observe them ; the one cursorily aud to little scientific purpose, 
the other patiently and with comprehensive and sagacious comparisons. 
Consciousness does not call the facts into being, nor does reflection intro- 
duce us to a new world of its own creation ; but both observe these facts, 
yet in a different way. Psychology does not add newly-created phe- 
nomena to our stock of knowledge, nor even in one sense newly-discov 



110 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §96. 

ered facts ; but only old and in one sense well-known facts, now carefully 
and comprehensively observed and exhibited in new relations. The facts, 
and many of the relations of the facts, are as obvious, and in one sense as 
truly known, to the peasant as to the philosopher. When the philosopher 
teaches the peasant, he does not impart new knowledge concerning the 
soul, by mere testimony, on the authority of his own observations and ex- 
periments, or those of others ; he simply teaches him to attend to the 
phenomena of his own inner self. He says to him, Look, and you will find 
this or that. Observe this and that phenomenon together, and you will 
see wherein they agree and wherein they differ. In short, he only 
teaches him what in one sense he knew before. 
Does the phiio- 8 96. But does not the reflective consciousness discover and 

sophical con- . -i-io-nr • -i t i 

sciousness im- impart new knowledge i Most certainly. It by no means 

part new knowl- „.. , . , „ ' . , ■ _ „ . 

edge. follows, because the natural iurnisnes to the reflective con- 

sciousness all its facts, and the reflective must go to the natural conscious- 
ness for all its materials, that the philosophic consciousness makes no 
important additions to the stock of human knowledge. The same starry 
heavens are pictured on the eye of the stupid or superstitious savage, as 
upon that of the scientific astronomer ; but how much more does the one 
see in them than the other ! A simple child and a skilful engineer look 
upon a steam-engine, both in one sense seeing the same objects ; but how 
much more does the one perceive in the engine than the other, of the pow- 
ers, the laws and the uses of each separate part, and of their action with 
respect to the whole. The same natural consciousness is the common pos- 
session of the race ; but how great is the store of important scientific 
truth which reflective thought has superinduced upon, and discovered in 
it. Indeed, it is easier to lead the savage up to the sublime generaliza- 
tions of astronomy, and to teach the child to comprehend the intricate 
relations of the steam-engine, than it is to make them familiar with the 
facts and principles of psychological science. To unveil to a man his inner 
self imparts more knowledge that is novel and strange, than to teach him 
astronomy and mechanics. 

The difference between the knowledge given by the natural and that acquired 
S!? 81 tnowlecke fl irou S a tne philosophical consciousness, is well illustrated by the individual 
of the ego and conception of the ego, which is common to all, and the generalized conception 

of the self which is the product of reflection. The consideration of this differ- 
ence illustrates the relation of the one species of consciousness to the other. In every act and 
condition of the natural consciousness there is necessarily present, the recognition of the ego, as 
the unchanging subject of the changing states of the soul. It is plain that neither reflection nor 
memory can create or evolve this knowledge ; for both reflection and memory presuppose and 
require it as their essential condition. It must be given to the mind by the intuition of the 
natural consciousness, or it is not given at all. But it is the intuition of the individual ego — the 
one single being to which, and to which alone, belong the various and changing states which are its 
experiences and its doings, or rather into which it is constantly passing by suffering and by action. 
The conception of the self, which is expressed in language and denned by its constituent 



§96. THE REFLECTIVE, OR PHILOSOPHICAL CONSCIOUSNESS. Ill 

elements or characteristics, is the generalized product of the philosophical consciousness. A self 
is one of the individual agents or egos, so to speak, which is like every other, in those common 
characteristics or powers which make them alike. It is, however, an ego stripped of its indi- 
viduality by the process of abstraction, and considered only in those attributes and qualities 
which it has in common with others. The self, or this self, or my self, is this individual one 
of the selves — the ego, to which this common conception is applied, and of which it is predi- 
cated. These general attributes are known by their manifestations. In other words, we 
reflect upon its actings and experiences, and observe what it has in common with others of its 
class. We observe, also, what special or peculiar powers it has exhibited, by which it is dis- 
tinguished from other human souls and shows itself worthy to be set apart into a more limited 
or lower species. In order that either of these conceptions of an individual ego should be 
formed, it must have existed for a longer or shorter time, and had opportunity to manifest and 
develop its natural or perhaps its acquired peculiarities, in various forms of act and suffering. 
To do this, it must have had the opportunity of acting. The various occasions that are neces- 
sary as the sphere of the soul, must also have been furnished. Not only must the ego have lived 
and acted in various ways, to present the material for the reflex consciousness to work upon, 
but these manifestations must have been considered in all the ways necessary for philosophic 
results, in order that it may be considered as a self, or any species of a self. On the other 
hand, the natural consciousness must begin with the apprehension of the ego, as the condition 
of knowing a single mental state. It cannot connect one with another except by the appre- 
hended identity of this ego. We begin with the natural consciousness of the individual ego, 
and end with the philosophical concept of the self; with its nature and capacities as developed 
in the reflective consciousness, by which nature we explain its various single phenomena as 
occurring according to the essential laws of its being. 

So, too, when we conceive of the self in its ethical relations, we consider the individual 
ego as possessed of a character, that is the result of its own free activity, and yet is described 
and judged by the marks of excellence or defect which it has in common with a class. In 
other words, we apply to it the concepts which generalization alone can furnish. We reflect 
on the actual attainments and doings of this individual ego, in order to judge of the class of 
beings to which to assign it, that we may know its worth and its destiny. We devise methods 
l;o improve it in the light of certain generalized concepts. In ethics, we recognize both the 
individual ego of the natural consciousness, and the generalized ego of reflection. 

We can also go beneath the generalizations of self that are founded on what consciousness 
observes and records. We can conceive of the soul as capable of other functions which con- 
nect it with the living body, and fit it to act in another sphere and under other relations. In 
these researches we depart still further from the sphere of the natural consciousness. 

Coleridge eloquently says : " There is a philosophic consciousness'which lies beneath, or (as it were) 
behind the spontaneous consciousness natural to all reflecting beings. As the elder Romans distinguished 
their northern provinces into Cis- Alpine and Trans- Alpine, so may -we divide all the objects of human 
knowledge into those on this side, and those on that side of the spontaneous consciousness. * * * The first 
range of hills that encircles the scanty vale of human life, is the horizon for the majority of its inhabitants. 
On its ridges the common sun is born and departs. From them the stars rise, and touching them they 
vanish. By the many, even this range, the natural limit and bulwark of the vale, is but imperfectly known. 
Its higher ascents are too often hidden by mists and clouds from uncultivated swamps, which few have 
courage or curiosity to penetrate. To the uncultivated below, these vapors appear, now as the dark haunts 
of terrific agents, on which none may intrude with impunity ; and now, all aglow with colors not their 
own, they are gazed at as the splendid palaces of happiness and power. But in all ages, there have been a 
few who, measuring and sounding the rivers of the vale at the feet of the further inaccessible falls, have 
learned that the sources must be far higher and inward— a few who, even in the level streams, have detected 
elements which neither the vale itself, nor the surrounding mountains could supply ."—Biog. Lit., Chap. 12. 
This passage is more eloquent than just. So fa,r as it describes the remoteness of the philosophic from tho 
spontaneous consciousness, it is striking and true. So far as it fails to recognize the near relation of the 
two, and the responsibility of the one to the other, it not only fails altogether, but suggests the mischievous 
inference, that the philosopher discovers truths and relations which are in no sense whatever known by 



112 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §97. 

the ctfmmon consciousness— an inference which would invest the philosopher with a magical gift and 
authority, as well as release him from the obligation and the means of proving and teaching what he 
discovers, to any but the initiated few. 

8 97. The relations of the natural to the philosophic con- 

Office of Ian- . .• =, _ *-■.'.'•'* A _ 

guage in respect sciousness cannot be iuLly. appreciated, unless we advert to 
the office of language with respect to each. Language is of 
essential aid in giving precision and permanence to the observations and 
results of the reflective consciousness. It is an indispensable requisite to 
man in every species of scientific research, but in none is it so eminently 
serviceable, as in the scientific observation of the soul. The subject-mat- 
ter, as we have seen, is fleeting. It endures but for an instant. The state 
which we observe and record no sooner appears, than it is gone. If we 
recall another like it, we must depend on the distinctness with which we 
reproduced the original observation, to justify us in using it for the pur- 
poses of science. The matter is not fixed and abiding by which we would 
test our theories and detect our errors. But we can give it outward form 
and definite shape by embodying it in words and expressing it in speech. 

The frequent use of the word, makes familiar the state and its discerned relations, of which 
it is both the symbol and the record. To enshrine a refined observation or a subtle distinction 
in a fit epithet or a well-chosen name, enables us to revive the conception when the mind is 
less wakeful, or summons us to search for it where it would not spontaneously present itself. 
The thought, however evanescent, is held before the mind for the purposes of comparison and 
philosophy, when the word is often sounded to the ear or pictured before the eye. By the 
sharply-cut outlines of language, thought-objects are so presented that we can avoid a crowded, 
feeble, or bewildered gaze, when we would summon our energies to compare, classify, and 
explain. 

But language does not create phenomena and furnish obser- 

Language does . T . _ ,* , -,-■. -, 

not create the vations. It simply records both, and directs and stimulates 
others to repeat like efforts of thought for themselves. To 
attempt to observe without it, is to reject the aid which nature furnishes 
to our hand, and to the use of which she prompts us, by an impulse which 
we cannot resist if we would. But we should ever remember that lan- 
guage is only an aid, and that the ready use of it by ourselves or others 
cannot release us from the obligation to think and observe for ourselves, 
to consider attentively and reflectively judge the states of our own souls, 
to reproduce and study which, the words of others simply direct and aid 
us. 

We ought especially to guard ourselves against the liability to be imposed on 

Dangers of mere ^ t ^ e uge f a re fi ne d and technical terminology, or the exhibition of a well- 
tecnnology and J °"" 

system. rounded and carefully-adjusted system. Both these features are of them- 

selves essential requisites in any science, and in none more than in the science 
of the soul. But they exhibit only the relations of psychological facts as viewed by this or 
that philosopher, and do not necessarily assure us that they exhibit all the facts in their just 
relations, that none are overlooked and nothing is invented. Technical language is essential 
to the use of the reflective consciousness, but it is not nearly so certain to exhibit the facts 



§97. THE REFLECTIVE, OK PHILOSOPHICAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 113 

just as they are, with the beliefs and relations which they involve, as the language of the natu- 
ral consciousness or the language of common life. 

The language Indeed, as an expression of psychological facts and a touch- 
sonSSs 11 the stone of psychological theories, the language of common life 
safest * is far more worthy to be trusted than the language of the 

schools. It is the outspeaking of those beliefs and feelings, those distinc- 
tions and likenesses, which man is naturally conscious of, and which he 
therefore spontaneously expresses. It is the unconstrained embodiment of 
all that happens to his inner self ; the subtle robe which the spirit is con- 
tinually weaving for itself in all its inner processes. Each fold and adjust- 
ment is a natural and necessary product. Not one is assumed for a pur- 
pose. It is free from all those biassing influences which spring up on the 
soil and within the limits of speculation, from the influences of precon- 
ceived theories, whether fondly cherished by their originator, or tradition- 
ally accepted from revered teachers ; whether adopted or defended 
through the pride of opinion, the tenacity of consistency, or the heat of 
controversy. It is expressed in too great a variety of forms, and under 
circumstances too much unlike, to admit the supposition of any common 
prejudice or common interest. We are forced to accept the common 
discourse of men as expressing the unbiassed convictions of those who 
are competent to discern and decide upon the truth. 

But are uncultivated men competent to understand and decide upon such 
uncultivated truths as are in question among philosophers ? Let it be granted that their 

men know I language expresses their judgments, and that these judgments are worthy to 

be trusted as far as they go. But do they reach the questions and distinctions 
of the schools ? Can common men understand these questions and distinctions ? and if they 
cannot understand their import, how can they decide upon their validity or their truth? 
These inquiries are often urged in the way of exception and reply, to the view of the language 
of common life that has been expressed. The answer is brief, and it ought, as it seems to us, 
to be decisive. The facts which the philosopher seeks to discover are the facts or phenomena* 
which are common to all men, and of which all men are actually conscious. They are not the 
phenomena which are experienced exclusively by philosophers, whether in the form of knowl- 
edge or of feeling, but those which are as extensive as the experience of the human race. 
What all men experience when they know or feel, they will be likely to express in language ; 
for they cannot know or feel, without knowing that they know and feel. So far, then, as 
they attend to these processes, and express in language what they discern, they are likely to 
express the real facts which consciousness discerns ; and these are the very facts which the' 
philosopher desires to know. They will not use the language of the schools, for this is to 
them a strange tongue. They will not even understand this language — they will not be able 
even to recognize their own thoughts and their own beliefs when translated into this language ; 
but they experience all the phenomena which the philosopher compares, classifies, and inter- 
prets, and then expresses in terms that are technical and scholastic. In philosophizing upon 
these facts the philosopher is liable to serious mistakes in respect to the facts themselves, and 
their essential elements. 

To detect and correct all mistakes of philosophy-, the mi 

The language of , . .... _ - . _ r> ,.« * « 

common life use- biassed and unreflecting language of common hie is often 

one of the most efficient instrumentalities. The questions 
8 



114 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 99. 

are often grave and difficult. What are the original or elementary facts 
of human experience ? What would analysis show to be the real and the 
ultimate elements in our knowing and feeling ? To answer questions like 
these, there is no readier and surer expedient than to ask, How do men 
express themselves all the world over, when they have no theory to main- 
tain and no point to carry ? What are the unthinking utterances of com- 
mon men ? Language is thought made visible. But thought is belief 
that something is true. The language of common life is, then, the beliefs 
of unbiassed men made visible, concerning points in regard to which we 
simply desire to ascertain what their unbiassed consciousness discerns to 
be true. 

The 'actions of § 98, ^e ac ^ ons °f men are a ^ so °f great importance in 
"ortant^test^f ascer t a inhig what are the real beliefs of men. Their actions 
truttu speak louder than their words. When the actions of men 

can only be explained on the supposition that they are conscious of cer- 
tain knowledges, or believe certain facts which they may deny in their 
philosophical speculations, or do not provide for in their psychology, we 
conclude that their philosophy is defective or wrong. We appeal from 
the propositions and reasonings of the reflective consciousness, to those 
actual beliefs of the natural consciousness which their actions demonstrate 
that they hold. When men act persistently and habitually as if they be- 
lieved certain facts were true, we cannot doubt that they do believe them, 
however they may seek to persuade themselves or others to the contrary. 
But in the study of the soul it is always an important problem to ascertain 
what are the elementary and original beliefs of which men are conscious. 
When these are ascertained by their habitual language and conduct, it is 
with great confidence that w r e proceed to examine the principles which 
their philosophy assumes, as well as the conclusions which they derive 
from them. 

These thoughts suggest the truth, which ought ever to be kept in mind and applied, that 
the teacher of psychology must appeal for the truth of his assertions to the consciousness of 
the learner. He can communicate nothing upon authority. His duty is to ascertain and 
classify and interpret the phenomena of his own soul, and to set forth the processes and the 
results in a manner so clear and so self-evidencing that his pupils will be enabled to consult 
their own consciousness as he proceeds, and to find in it a confirmation of all which he pro- 
pounds. Whatever is asserted by the teacher or guide, should be constantly met with the 
inquiry, Is this confirmed by my experience, or rendered probable by the analogous facts 
which this experience furnishes ? The testimony of others, and the authority of their opin- 
ions, should influence us greatly, not to change our opinions against the evidence of conscious- 
ness, but to revise these opinions with care, and often to suspect the exactness or the candor 
of our own observations, whenever the weight of authority is against our own convictions. But 
in psychology, pure authority has no weight against the final decision of consciousness itself. 

Conditions of § "• ^° reacn tn ^ s decision, two conditions are necessary : 
reaching the dc- J7i rs t that we fully understand the questions which we are 

cisions of con- * * *■ 

sckmsness. to decide, in all their import- and in all the relations which 



I 



§ 100. THE REFLECTIVE, OR PHILOSOPHICAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 115 

they involve ; and second, that we patiently and candidly nse all the appli 
ances and tests which are at hand to determine the answer. The greatest 
practical difficulty in settling questions in psychology arises from the circum 
stance that we do not, first and foremost, make ourselves fully and famil- 
iarly acquainted with the questions which are to be decided. We too 
often assume that we fully understand what we have only imperfectly 
mastered. Or if we apprehend the point in question for a moment, we 
fail to make it so familiar to our thoughts as is necessary in order to view 
it at all times in all its relations, and to decide with a full and distinct 
appreciation of the entire import of all which it involves. Men are reluc- 
tant to bestow this preliminary reflection, because they think that they 
are already fully acquainted with the question in discussion, and the term? 
and distinctions involved. 

All men know something about their own souls, and are able to pronounce with confi- 
dence upon many questions that are in controversy. They hastily conclude that they under- 
stand every question as soon as it is propounded, and are often in haste to decide, before they 
have fairly ascertained what the question is. Hence the misunderstandings and disputes be- 
tween men who are apparently in earnest to discover the truth ; hence the warmth with which 
each disputant maintains his opinion, and the obstinacy with which he defends it against 
attack. Each man is quite certain that what he has in mind is true ; but is he equally sure 
that his antagonist and himself have the same thing in mind ? or that either has all and no more 
in mind than is properly understood by the terms ? All men know something about psycholo- 
gy, therefore many men decide upon any question which comes before them before they have 
been careful to learn what the question is. All men are theologians and metaphysicians by 
nature ; therefore they conclude that there is no question in theology or philosophy which 
they are not at once competent to decide. They pronounce upon a problem before they are 
fully possessed of the terms, the data, or the means of solving it. The very energy with which 
they attend to some phenomena, and the blind impetuosity with which these facts drive them 
to a conclusion, render it impossible that they should attend to all the facts. The exemplari- 
ness, with which they comply with one of the conditions of successful reflection — viz., that they 
attend — confirms them in the belief that they have complied with the second, viz., that they 
attend to all the phenomena. They do not suspect that they have failed in the second, 
through the earnestness with which they obey the first ! 

Uncertaintv and § ^®®' These considerations explain in part the apparent para- 
sI s 0T choio Sres9 e-- ^ ox or contradiction in terms which is presented in the claim, 
plained. on th e one side, that the facts of consciousness are the most 

certain of all facts, and in the notorious fact, on the other, that many of 
the simplest and most fundamental principles in psychology are yet unde- 
cided, while its philosophical theories are the endless themes for never- 
settled controversy. 

The claim is a just one. The facts of consciousness are the most cer- 
tain of all facts. The objects which consciousness presents are, if possible, 
more real and better attested than the objects of sense. We can question 
whether the eye and the ear do not deceive us ; whether the sights which 
we see and the sounds which we hear are not illusions. We ask, at 



116 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §100. 

times, whether this entire sensible world is not a succession of shifting 
phantasmagoria; but we cannot doubt whether we perform the acts of 
seeing and hearing. We may question whether these objects are what 
they seem to be, but not whether certain acts are in reality performed. 
We may doubt whether this or that object be a reality or a phantasm, but 
we cannot doubt that we doubt. Nothing in the universe is so certain, 
and deserves so well to be trusted, as the psychical phenomena of which 
each man is conscious. 

On the other hand, the fact adduced in objection cannot be disputed. 
Psychology is unsettled, and every treatise which professes to give the 
facts of the soul in scientific form and relations, abounds in criticisms of 
theories that are still adhered to, and in controversy against opinions that 
are maintained by eminent writers. How can this fact be reconciled with 
the claims to superior clearness and certainty that are asserted for the 
facts of consciousness ? 

The positions which we have laid down in respect to the relations of 
the natural to the reflective consciousness, enable us to reconcile this appar- 
ent inconsistency. First of all it is to be noticed, that there is as much 
vagueness and dispute in respect to the less obvious conceptions and rela* 
tions of material objects, as in respect to the more recondite relations of 
psychical phenomena. The obvious facts and relations of matter are 
accepted without controversy, and are described in popular language. 
Those which are less obvious, or which involve nice observation, careful 
discrimination, or some speculative assumption, are quite as much in con- 
troversy as are the obvious phenomena of the soul when subjected to 
philosophical elaboration. The metaphysics of mathematics, of physics, 
of chemistry, are as much in doubt and controversy as are the meta- 
physics of psychical facts. It is because psychology always resolves itself 
into metaphysics, that psychology always rushes into controversy. 

Moreover, it not only concerns itself with its own metaphysics — those which are appropri- 
ate to its own facts — but it shoulders the metaphysics of all the material sciences, and trans- 
fers to its own arena the smoke and dust that properly belong to the doubtful questions on 
other fields, and therefore incurs the special reproach to which we have alluded. One reason 
why psychology is always vague and unsettled, is that it attempts more than do the physical sci- 
ences, going more deeply than they into the philosophy of its appropriate facts. Another rea- 
son is, that the reflective consciousness always aims to give the philosophical relations and 
explanations and definitions of psychical facts. Indeed, the language of common life does to 
a certain extent embody a philosophy, as well as utter the beliefs of the natural consciousness. 
When, then, it is asserted that the facts of spiritual experience are better worthy to be trusted 
than the facts of sense and of matter, it is only claimed, that what is experienced, as experi- 
enced, is worthy of confidence, and actually secures it ; not that, when it is expressed in lan- 
guage, especially in the language of the schools, it is placed on higher grounds of certainty. 
It is what we experience in the natural consciousness, not what is philosophized upon in the 
reflective consciousness, that deserves and receives such implicit trust. We grant that it ia 
not so easy to shape our philosophy by our facts, nor to test our philosophy by our facts, in 
the psychical as in the physical sciences. This leads us to observe that : 



§101. THE REFLECTIVE, OR PHILOSOPHICAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 11/ 

§ 101. The peculiar difficulties which the student of psy 
ties in the study chology must expect to encounter will be suggested by the 
analysis which we have given of the two sorts of conscious- 
ness. They are the following : 

First : The objects of contemplation are not, as in the material world, 
permanent objects, to which the mind can come and go, so as to bestow 
repeated observations, till every feature and relation has been carefully 
and minutely examined. In the science of the soul, the objects — i. e., the 
phenomena — cease to be, while consciousness surveys them. Material 
objects become more vivid and distinct the more keenly the attention is 
fixed upon them ; but the objects of consciousness are consumed by the 
concentrated gaze of reflection which would master the secrets of their 
being. The repeated creation of a similar object for the second applica- 
tion of consciousness is the only substitute for the continued examination 
of the same object. 

Second : Two observers, and, if need be, twenty, or twenty thousand, 
can examine and reexamine the same material object. But the objects of 
the soul can be surveyed by a single observer for a single instant only. 
If many observers agree to examine in order to analyze what they con- 
ceive to be the same object, it is sometimes difficult for them to be entirely 
sure that the objects before their minds are actually the same. 

Third : The testimony or report which, one observer brings of his ex- 
amination, cannot avail as a substitute for personal inspection by the stu- 
dent himself. Should he even confide entirely in the competence and the 
candor of another party, he needs to observe for himself in order to be 
sure of the identity of the object concerning which he accepts the testi- 
mony of another. 

Fourth : Objects of sense are clearly distinguished from and set over 
against the soul that observes them. In the very act of observation the 
soul separates them from itself. Objects of the soul are known not to be 
severed in fact from the soul which observes. For the soul attentively 
to view its own states as objects to itself, there is required a special and 
constrained effort. " The understanding," says Locke, " like the eye, while 
it makes us see and perceive all other things, takes no notice of itself; and 
it requires art and pains to set it at a distance, and make it its own 
object." 

Fifth : The act of reflection, or second-thinking, for the sole purpose 
of examining the nature of the act or state already experienced, is espe- 
cially artificial, and against nature, for the reason that men usually act for 
some direct object of use, enjoyment, or duty, and, in thus acting, their 
look must necessarily be outward and objective. It is necessary, if men 
would act with interest and energy, that their feelings be strongly aroused 
by the object itself. But to reproduce the act a second time, or its pale 
reflection, for the sole purpose of seeing of what sort or nature it is, is not 



118 THE HUMAN" INTELLECT. § 101, 

natural, because most men are not greatly interested to know thoroughly 
and scientifically what their actions are. Or, if they are interested in this 
as an end, yet the reproduction, and the continuation through successive 
reproductions of an act or state, for the mere object of examining its 
nature, is embarrassed by the difficulty of reproducing it without the ex- 
citement of its appropriate object. We perceive, remember, and imagine, 
hope and fear, choose and reject, naturally and readily enough, when the 
objects arouse and excite us ; but to perceive and re-perceive, to hope and 
fear again and again, simply that we may know more exactly how it 
seems or what it is to perform or experience these states, are, at best, 
forced and unnatural efforts. Nothing but the deepest convictions of the 
dignity and value of the results in the acquisition of intellectual dis- 
cipline and the advancement of psychological science, can impel to the 
earnest undertaking of such efforts, and the patient prosecution of them to 
a successful issue. 

Sixth : The objects of matter invite to analysis by their obtrusive like- 
nesses and differences. The phenomena of the soul do not present such 
obvious occasions for analysis. Material objects do, as it were, indicate by 
dividing lines, by intersecting seams, by salient and projecting points, the 
sections into which the object falls apart under the eye of analysis. In- 
deed, Nature herself is continually separating and combining these objects 
before our eyes, changing color and form, disintegrating and throwing 
apart the diverse materials which are aggregated into masses by mechan- 
ical attraction ; as when the frost breaks up and rolls out the different 
ingredients of a rock ; or decomposes the ingredients chemically united, 
as when, in fermentation or by heat or solvents, gases and precipitates 
betray their presence to the senses. The so-called five senses can no sooner 
be applied together or in succession to any object, than they begin at once 
to suggest five sets of qualities or attributes, to say nothing of new rela- 
tions of extension and of number. 

To the analysis of the phenomena of the soul there are no such for- 
ward promptings of nature. A psychical state, when viewed by con- 
sciousness, does not suggest diverse attributes or relations. To bring 
these to light, it must be brought into comparison with states like and un- 
like itself. These must be recalled by memory, and vividly reproduced to 
the imagination. One state must be artificially confronted with another, 
for the sake of evolving some common poiuts of likeness or contrast. 

All these circumstances combined explain the inherent difficulties of philosophical self- 
observation, and the slow progress and the uncertain conquests of the science of the soul in 
contrast with the rapid advances and the certain results of the science of matter. The history 
of psychology is not, however, without gratifying attestations that its progress, though slow, 
is real, and that its acquisitions, though often disputed, are more and more assured. 



§ 103. SENSE-PERCEPTION. 118 



CHAPTER III. 

SENSE-PEECEPTION : THE CONDITIONS AND THE PEOCESS. 

From consciousness, as the first faculty or form of presentative knowledge, which is concerned 
with the objects of spirit and their relations, we proceed to the second, which is concerned 
with the objects and relations of matter. We define 

§ 102. Sense-perception as that power of the intellect by 

Sense-perception °.. 1 . .-,-, -.t n • i ■, • -r • i 

defined and dis- which it gams the knowledge oi material obiects. It is also 

tinguished. ° J 

called sensible perception, or simply, perception. We apply 
these terms to the power, the act, and even to the object. Thus we say, 
Man is endowed with perception ; i. e., with the power to perceive. We 
say, My perception of the color or sound was clear and vivid — describing 
the act of perceiving. We also ask, Do you recall certain perceptions, as 
of color or form ? — emphasizing the object. 

The terms to perceive and perception, are applied freely to other acts and objects of 
knowledge besides those which require the agency of the senses. We are said to perceive, and 
to have perceptions of mathematical distinctions, of the drift and force of reasoning, of the 
design of a machine, and of the purpose of- an antagonist. But perception, in the technical 
and limited sense of the term, is appropriated to the knowledge of material objects, and of 
the external world. This knowledge is gained or acquired by means of the senses, and hence, 
to be more exact, we call it sensible perception, or,, more briefly, sense-perception. 

is developed ear- 8 103. Sense-perception is called into activity first of ail 

liest of all the s * \ .. • „ -,-,--,,-,-, 

powers, seems the powers of the intellect. It is educated and fully devel- 

to be the most r". ._,_, , . 

familiar. oped m our earliest years, at a period and by processes which 

we cannot distinctly recall to memory. Its objects occupy the almost 
exclusive attention of the great majority of men, and excite their most 
absorbing interest and their strongest passions. It is also the essential 
condition and attendant of their higher knowledge and beliefs. For all 
these and other reasons, it naturally receives the earliest attention in the 
study of the intellectual powers. 

The processes of sense-perception seem to most men to be the most familiar and the best 
understood of all their intellectual acts. They introduce them to those sensible and material 
objects which are generally believed to be the most real of all existences. They minister 
pleasures and pains, and excite passions which take the strongest hold of man's nature. Their 
activity is more constant, unremitted, and energetic than is that of any other function. So long 
as man continues to exist in the present form and conditions of his being, he never ceases to 
perceive. Some of the senses are all the while in action. Sense-perceptions are present in 
his loftiest speculations and his most refined reasonings. They often force themselves upon 
the reluctant attention. The world of sense holds man to its realities in the most ethereal of 



120 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §105 

his flights, and never ceases to be the dark or radiant background to the brightest pictures oi 
his fancy. Sensations visit man in sleep. They disturb or soothe his repose. They haunt him 
in his very dreams. With sensations and sense-perceptions man begins and ends his earthly 
existence. 

8 104. But though this power is developed so early and 

Is not the most ° ° r . r J 

easily tinder- exercised so constantly, and, at first view, seems so easy to 
be understood ; it is far from easy to analyze its elements, or 
to explain its processes. To understand sense-perception, we must study 
the body as well as the mind ; we must trace out, and, as it were, unwind 
the subtle connections by which the two are united ; we must show how 
far the one is dependent on the other ; what each furnishes toward the 
result, and w T hat are the separable acts or processes in which the action 
of each may be distinguished. 

In point of fact, the power of sense-perception has received a greater share of attention 
in the science of the soul than all the other powers and faculties united. This can be 
accounted for, because it would naturally first attract the attention, seeming to be the easiest 
to be understood because the most familiar. Being found to be difficult of analysis and expla- 
nation, it would detain and hold the attention, because the mind was puzzled and disturbed by 
these unexpected difficulties. Its phenomena are dependent on material conditions, and 
physical or material explanations would be readily suggested to account for them. These are 
readily resorted to in the infancy of psychology. 

For all these reasons we can understand how it has happened that theories of perception 
have occasioned more speculation and more controversy than theories on every other subject 
in psychological science. Not only have they misled men in respect to their proper subject- 
matter, but they have led to incorrect conceptions of the soul itself, and to erroneous views 
of all the other powers. Many of them have involved materialistic assumptions, or have 
logically required the grossest materialism as their necessary consequent. Such inferences 
have been actually accepted by many as the result of a false or inadequate theory of sense- 
perception. 

8 105. The first requisite to a correct theory of perception 

Distinguished . in . 

from other men- is to separate the act from every other with which it is likely 
to be confounded. As the power gives us knowledge of 
material objects, it is not unnatural to suppose or hastily to conclude that 
much, if not all the knowledge which we have of matter, is gained by this 
process alone. A more careful examination shows that we gain very much 
of our knowledge of these objects by the exercise of the other and higher 
intellectual powers. This examination can be conducted most successfully 
by taking a single example of some well-known object, and inquiring how 
great a share of our knowledge of it we do, and how great we do not 
gain by sense-perception. 

Knowledge of ^ e se * ect an oran g e > an{ * inquire first what acts of knowledge in respect to 
matter not gain- it are not acts of perception ; and second, what knowledge is properly 
eeption. enSe_Per " ascribed to this power as its proper origin and source. We shall then be 
prepared to consider how this power can be defined, and what are the ele- 
ments into which it can be resolved. 

We first look at the orange, and immediately supply the half which we do not see — the 



§106. SENSE-PERCEPTION. 121 

portion of the sphere which is hidden. We know, or believe, the orange to be spherical. Th< 
part which we supply we do not perceive by the eye of the body ; we only image it to the 
' mind's eye.' If we close the eyes, we can with the eye of the mind picture and discern the 
yellow orange ; but the orange which we know in this way we do not perceive. We may imagine 
the color to be changed, and make it green, or blue, to the mental vision. We can change 
its form even, and make it elliptical ; we can enlarge or contract its dimensions, without chang- 
ing its form. All these are acts of imagination or representation, but not acts of perception 

We can separate its form, as spherical, from all material reality, and can construct the 
abstract or mathematical sphere for the mind to consider and analyze. We can reflect on its 
properties and its relations to the circle by the revolution of which it is conceived to be pro- 
duced. The discernment of the mathematical forms, properties, and relations which may be 
applied to the orange is not perception. 

We know, or believe, that the orange has sensible qualities, as of taste, color, feeling, smell, 
and that all these are inherent in or belong to the something which we call their substance. 
The knowledge of the orange as substance and qualities is not necessarily involved in perception. 

We observe that other objects possess qualities like some of those which belong to the 
orange — that some are yellow, others are round, etc. — and are therefore properly classed with 
it and receive a common appellation. But classification and naming are not perception. 

We can know that this fruit has been produced by the powers and under the laws which 
are appropriate to vegetable life ; or, in other words, that it is an effect of certain agencies 
which we can satisfactorily determine. Knowledge of this sort is not essential to perception. 

We can know, by reasoning, that it will produce certain effects if eaten, or used in illness; 
but this we do not know by simple perception. 

We can go still further, and know, or certainly believe, that it is adapted to and was de- 
signed for certain uses or ends ; that it exists or was produced with reference to these ends — 
as to minister comfort and afford nutriment to man. The knowledge of designs and uses is 
not necessarily present in the simplest forms of perception. 

It is evident that all these acts of knowledge may be performed upon or with 

What are acta respect to the orange, and that none of them are simply acts of sense-percep- 

of sense-percep- _ . „ , , , , ... 

tion 1 tion. It is equally clear that there are other acts which are the prerequisites 

to these ; so that, if we did not know something more of the orange than 

we acquire in these ways, we could never know the orange by these higher methods. This 

preliminary knowledge remains to be considered, after these higher processes are set aside. 

Knwled e § 106. What is this preliminary knowledge, and what the 
that is gained processes by which it is grained ? We answer at once, It is 

by sense-percep- r J & _ ' 

tion - the knowledge which is necessarily involved in the use of the 

organs of sense, or of the senses. 

Let us try the senses upon the orange, one by one ; and first the sense 
of smell, suspending the action of every other. We perceive a grateful 
odor, and that is all we know of the orange by this means. Should or 
could we remain in this supposed condition, this is all that we should ever 
know of it. 

We open the ear, and the orange falls, or is struck. We hear the 
sound from the fall, or the stroke, and this is all that we know by the ear. 

We taste the orange. At once two kinds of knowledge are given, as 
two senses awake to action — the senses of taste and of touch. For the 
tongue is as truly an organ of touch as it is of taste. But if we could 
separate the touch from the taste, ^Ye should perceive the flavor only. 



122 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 106. 

We grasp it with the hand, first lightly, so as only to be aware of its 
presence, then with greater force of pressure, so as to encounter resist- 
ance! We pass the hand over the surface, and perceive that it is smooth 
or rough. We come to its limits ; for the hand is in contact with another 
something. This object can be separated from the orange. It can by the 
hand be brought near or removed from it. Through the hand we can per- 
ceive the object as impinging and resisting, as smooth or rough, as having 
extension and form. 

Last of all, w r e open the eye. A surface of color presents itself, sepa- 
rated from other shaded aud colored surfaces by an encircling ring. The 
color is shaded by the most delicate transitions, deepening here, almost 
vanishing there. As the orange is near or remote, the limiting or bound- 
ing circle widens or is contracted, and the colors are feeble or bright. 
The eye gives colored extension, form, motion, and relative size. Were 
we all eye, we should perceive nothing more. 

In connection with the use of these organs, we perceive or are aware 
of certain changing affections that attend upon the varying condition of 
the muscles that direct and move the sense-organs. We know the mus- 
cles as tense and as relaxed. We apprehend the affection that belongs to 
the grasp that is firm and that which is relaxed ; * the feeling that attends 
the stretching forth and the withdrawment of the hand. Certain vital 
and muscular affections are known in connection with the sense-percep- 
tions. 

These various knowledges, or percepts, obtained by these several 
means, we combine into one separate and single object, occupying a lim- 
ited portion of space. The process of perception is not complete till we 
have attained the knowledge of single objects, made up by the mind of 
separate parts corresponding to the several senses, and having definite 
relations of form and magnitude. Such an object we call a material thing. 
When we have gained such a knowledge of the object as enables us to 
recall and otherwise use it as a mental representation or object, we have 
completed all that is essential to the process. In other words, we per- 
ceive objects when we can retain and revive representations or images oi 
them as separate things or wholes. 

Much of our knowledge of sense-objects is acquired indirectly. We 
make the knowledge received by one sense a substitute for that which we 
might receive by another. Thus, by the color of the orange w r e know its 
taste ; by its appearance to the eye, its feeling to the hand — whether it is 
hard or soft, whether it is green or ripe. We know an object to be near, 
by the distinctness or sharpness of its outline and the vividness of its 
color. We know it is remote by the dimness of the line and the dulness 
of the color. We determine its distance by its size, and its size by its 
distance. Knowledge obtained by such processes is called acquired per- 
ception. The knowledge of sense-objects under the relations of substance 



§ 108. THE CONDITIONS OF SENSE-PEKCEPTIOA . VA'C 

and qualities involves the application of still higher relations and powers 
of the intellect. 

§107. This general outline or preliminary analysis of sense- 

Besultsofanaly- s & . r . J J 

sis. Eight topics perception has shown that it is dependent on corporeal 

proposed. x x ^ ... ....._ . _ 

organs or instruments ; that it is attended by special sensa- 
tions, each differing in quality and intensity according to the constitution 
and condition of its appropriate organ ; that in connection with each of 
these sensations we gain a positive knowledge of material objects ; that we 
unite these knowledges, so as to gain and retain perceptions of separate 
material things, and that we gain this knowledge of things both by direct 
observation and indirect inference. It also opens for us the following dis- 
tinct topics of inquiry : 

I. The conditions or media of Sense- Perception. — II. The process of 
Sense-Perception, in its two elements of Sensation and Perception.— 
HI. The classes of Sense- Perceptions. — IV. The acquired Sense-Percep- 
tions. — V. The development and growth of Sense-Perception. — VI. The 
products of Sense-Perception. — VII. Activity of the Soul in Sense-Percep- 
tion. — VJH. Theories of Sense-Perception. 

I. The conditions or media of sense-perception. 

8 108. We perceive by means of certain bodily organs, and 

The conditions " * . J . J _ ° . 

enumerated, on the condition that these organs are excited by their ap« 

The first condi- . . 7 . ° _ - , J r 

tion. propriate objects or stimuli, and that the nervous system 

with which these organs are connected, shares in this excitation. These 
conditions of sense-perception are purely physiological, and are discovered 
by the senses. The first condition is the existence of a material, nervous, 
and sensorial organism. 

To understand the structure and office of the organs of sense-perception, and 
The material or- ^heir relation to psychical experience and activities, we must consider some 
ganism. general facts in the structure of the body of which these organs are a part. 

The human body is material in its composition ; i. c, it consists of particles 
of matter which are endowed with the properties, and subject to the laws which belong to 
matter in general. Its skeleton is a framework of bones, the parts of which, like those of 
any other framework, can be broken into fragments by a blow or a fall. These are fitted 
together with obvious mechanical ingenuity, and are firmly held in their places by strong and 
well-banded ligaments. This framework is so shaped and adjusted as to serve as the support 
of the muscles, which both hold the parts together and wall in the principal cavities. They 
also originate and convey motion — the motions of the several parts, and of the whole, accord- 
ing to mechanical laws. The several cavities of the trunk contain special organs, which, 
with their connected tubes, digest the food, assimilate the nutriment, circulate the blood and 
other fluids, and aerate the blood through the expanding lungs by contact with the oxygen of 
■the atmosphere. These parts, with the nervous system, constitute an organism, or organic 
whole. Such an organism differs from a machine, in that each of its separate material parts 
performs certain functions, as digestion, secretion, circulation, respiration, each of which is 
peculiar, and appropriate to no other organ. This function is essential to the existence and 



124 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §108. 

action of every other organ, and to the performance of its special function ; while all must act 
together in order to further or render possible the special action of each. The united action 
of the whole is essential to the separate action of each part ; and the separate action of each 
part is essential to the united action of the whole. If digestion is weakened or arrested, the 
blood ceases to move and the lungs to expand, or both these functions are irregularly and 
imperfectly performed. Death may ensue. That which showed itself to be alive, by the perform- 
ance of all these functions, now shows itself to be dead by performing them no more. The 
matter of which it was composed is given over to those agents of decomposition which they 
before resisted, and the particles themselves are disintegrated, and fall asunder. The once 
living organism is now dead matter. 

In this living organism is present a system of organs, con- 
Thfi nervous sys- sigting of the brain, the ganglia, and the nerves. The nerves 

are filaments which terminate on every surface and at every 
extremity of the body, and penetrate every portion, even the very bones. 
They are interlaced with one another, and are occasionally expanded intc 
large knots or masses of their substance. These expansions are called 
ganglia, and serve as independent centres of nervous activity and force 
The nerves increase in size as they approach the ganglia, the spinal mar 
row, and the brain. By means of the ganglia and the spinal marrow, the*v- 
are all connected with the brain, which is itself a larger ganglion, or sys- 
tem of ganglia — a large convoluted mass made up of the same two species 
of matter of which the whole nervous system consists. This system of 
nerves performs several distinct functions, all important to the life and 
well-being of the body. If some or all of the nerves are diseased, single 
organs fail, or the entire body perishes. If the spinal marrow is injured 
by disease or violence, the limbs are wholly or in part disabled. If the 
brain is shocked by concussion, life is suspended, or returns no more. 

The function of the nervous system with which we are 
The sensorium. specially concerned, relates to sensation. To fit the nerves 

for this function, they are connected with various organs, the 
most noticeable of which are the eye, the ear, the nostril, the hand. These 
are framed with special adaptation to their appropriate objects, and suffer 
certain changes or impressions from these objects, all of which are neces- 
ary to the sense-perception. These organs, with the nerves attached, as 
capable of the sentient functions in an animated or living organism, are 
known by the collective term, the sensorium, or sensory. The term is 
technical, and is appropriate to those organs and nerves, and only those, 
which bear some part in the process of perception, and so far only as their 
function relates to this process. 

We must notice another function of the nervous system 
The reflex action w hich is intimately connected with perception, viz., their 

of the nerves. ^ . 

capacity for reflex action. The nervous filaments which pro- 
ceed from the external and other organs run side by side in pairs, two 
being united within the same covering or sheath, and connected by inter- 
woven fibres. If any part where they terminate is irritated, or excited 



§109. THE CONDITIONS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 125 

in any way, one of these filaments conveys the notice to the brain or 
ganglion, and the other conveys the stimulus back to the place where the 
impression c sensation occurred. "We say the impression or sensation, for 
it is by no means essential that the soul should feel pleasure or pain, or in 
any way be aware of the occurrence. Whatever the excitement may be, 
the companion nerve responds to the call of its associate, and contracts, 
convulses, or moves appropriately the muscle or the organ which is 
aroused. A message of invitation or warning flashes inward along one 
of these mysterious filaments, the afferent. An answer is sent at once 
outward by the efferent to the place from which it came, and the answer 
is obeyed. This may be done without the intervention or the knowledge 
of the soul. The nerves arranged for this special service of the senses and 
of motion are called the senso-motor, and the general action which we have 
described is called their reflex action. 

The nerves, it will be observed, are the subjects of diverse affections 
or iDhenomena. First, they are subject to mechanical action and change. 
Like other filaments, they can be bruised, rent, or cut. Second, their con- 
stituent elements suffer chemical changes. Third, they minister to the 
healthy or unhealthy action of all the vital and sense-organs. Fourth, 
they are capable of various reflex actions, both occasional in response to 
casual excitements, and regular, as in sustaining the involuntary action of 
the heart, lungs, and other organs. Fifth, last of all, when a sentient soul 
makes this organism living, they are capable of a special affection or ex- 
citement, w T hich is the condition of sensation and sense-perception. The 
first and essential requisite to sense-perception is the existence of the sen- 
sor ium as thus defined. 

8 109. The second requisite to sense-perception is the exist- 

The second con- ° *■ x * 

dition is an ob- ence and the presence of appropriate objects. We say in 

ject or excitant. ' r ..,,,. . .. . . 

general, there must be visible objects in order to vision : 
audible objects in order to hearing : tangible objects in order to touch. In 
other language we say, objects, to be perceived, must be luminous, sonorous, 
resisting ; or, more abstractly, there must be light, sound, and hardness, or 
there cannot be vision, hearing, or touch. 

One apparent exception to this principle occurs in the case of the so-called subjective 
sensations which are excited by stimulating the nerves by peculiar agents. Thus the optic 
nerve, under electrical applications, may be so excited as to occasion flashes of light. Sparks 
are perceived, from a blow or contusion. Slight sensations of smell and of taste, also a ring- 
ing or whizzing in the ears, are occasioned by electrical action. Experiments of this kind 
prove that the sensation depends entirely on the excitement of a part of the sensory to a given 
species of activity, and that this excitement is idiopathic, or limited to the nerve or nerves 
concerned; e. g., the optic nerve alone emits light; the acoustic nerve, sound, etc., etc. 
Physical researches into the nature of the objects of sense-perception have convinced many 
philosophers that their action upon, or their power to affect the sensorium depends on the 
motion of the particles of matter. In the view of such, all objects which are perceived are 
capable of a more or less frequent motion ; and according to its greater or less rapidity, wher 



126 THE HUMAN" INTELLECT. §111 

it property affects the nervous organism, is the sense-perception in its quality and intensity. 
Thus light, as perceived, is resolved into undulating ether, and according as its undulations are 
more or less rapid, so the object seen is scarlet, violet, red, or yellow. Sound is also depend- 
ent on similar vibrations. So, as is presumed by analogy, is it with smell, taste, and touch. 
Similar conclusions are accepted with respect to heat, and the various forms of pleasurable or 
painful muscular and subjective experiences, as of bruising, tearing, etc., etc. This analysis, 
with its results, is simply physical. It proves only in what condition matter is or must be, in 
order to be perceived. Its inquiries respect only the physical conditions of the sense-percep- 
tions. They shed no light at all upon the experiences of the soul. What the soul experiences 
and apprehends are not motions of any kind, but different sounds, tastes, smells, colors. As 
physical researches, these inquiries are legitimate and attractive. But to psychology they have 
no application, because they stand in no rational connection with the phenomena to be 
explained. Cf. H. Lotze, Mikrolcosmus, vol. ii. B. V. c. 2. 

The third conai- § 110# "^ ne third condition of sense-perception is the action 
tion. its action f ^ biect upon the sensorium." In order to receive this 

on the senso- J *■ 

num. action, the external organs must be in a normal condition — viz. 

the eye, the ear, the palate, and the skin. If any lesion or disease occurs, 
the perception is irregular or impossible. In like manner, if the nerves 
are diseased or destroyed, the perceptions are disturbed or prevented. 
Let the optic nerve be injured, and the vision is doubled, clouded, or ex- 
tinguished. So is it with hearing, with touch, with smell, and with taste. 

It is contended by many (L. George, Diefilnf Sinne, Berlin, 1846 ; J. D. Morell, Outlines, 
etc., Lond., 1862), that the excitement of the sensorium to the condition favorable to sense- 
perception is simply the arousing of its nerve substance to vibratory action or motion. Strong 
confirmation of this view is derived from the kindred doctrine that the objects of perception 
are matter in different modes and rates of motion. As the researches and speculations in 
respect to matter are purely physical, so this inquiry and its results are exclusively physio- 
logical. They relate only to the conditions, but furnish no explanation of the psychical phe- 
nomena as experiences or acts of the soul. As the soul does not perceive undulating matter 
in light and sound, no more does it perceive the vibrating nerves which proceed from the eye 
and the ear. Psychologically — i. <?., in its conscious experience — it knows nothing of these 
objective or subjective conditions, either as physical or nervous requisites to its own states. 
In its conscious states it feels and perceives, and it is conscious that it feels and perceives. 
"What takes place in the matter without, or in the organ with which the matter comes in con- 
tact, or in the nerve itself which proceeds from the organ, it can only view as a physical or 
physiological condition to a psychical fact. 

How, then, it may be asked, do we know that these three requisites must be present ? 
We reply, Only indirectly. We learn it by inference. If the sensorium no longer exists, 
there is no perception. If the object is withdrawn, as the luminous or sonorous matter, there 
can be no perception. Perhaps it may be proved that, if the matter does not vibrate, the 
result is similar. If the organ or the nerve is destroyed, the soul does not perceive. We 
conclude that all these are its essential conditions. But that they are not the acts or states 
themselves, will be still more manifest from the consideration of the act of sense-perception 
c itself. We proceed next to : 

h II. The process of sense-perception. 

^ c § 111. The simplest form in which sense-perception is expe- 

Bcnsc-perccption rienced is in connection with a single organ of sense. The 

in the simplest . . . 

form; what! states or acts which we ordinarily call sense-perceptions, by 



$ 111. THE PEOCESS OF SENSE-PEECEPTION. 127 

which we apprehend the most familiar objects, as a table, a chair, a horse, 
or a dog, are made up of too many elements to allow us to discern the 
precise character of the elements or the steps of the process itself. It is 
only when we consider a single act, as of seeing and hearing, and of the 
simplest object, as a single color or sound, that we are in a condition to 
determine what are the essential nature and elements of the act itself. 

The most general answer which we make to our inquiry is, 

It is psychical, . . & -,■-,.. . -, ■, • i -, *, 

not physioiogi- that it is clearly and distinctively a psychical and not a phys- 
iological phenomenon. We are prepared, by our previous 
analysis, to distinguish perception from the organic instruments and con- 
ditions that are essential to it. Neither the eye nor the optic nerve, nor 
the image formed on the retina, nor the nervous response to the image — 
none of these, nor all of them together, constitute vision. The picture may 
be formed, the nerve maybe stimulated to reflex activity, so as to contract 
the iris or let fall the eyelid, and yet there may be no sight. If a hot iron 
is applied to the flesh, and the soul does not feel and apprehend, there is 
no sense-perception. It may disorganize and destroy the flesh, consum- 
ing it to the bone, and yet, if the soul does not respond, the phenomenon 
which we seek for does not occur. In order to this, another element must 
be furnished, and a new energy must be aroused from the soul itself. Its 
presence and its nature are known by consciousness. Its physical con- 
ditions are observed by the senses and traced out by physiological analysis. 
The anatomist separates and follows the one class of phenomena by his 
dissecting knife, interpreting the functions which he does not observe. 
Consciousness watches the other, notes their similarities and differences, 
refers them to their agent and records their products. 

Let us, then, leave these physical or physiological con- 
»f two elements' d-Hions, an< ^ consult consciousness alone. We inquire of 
consciousness, What is the psychical act or state ? She 
replies, It is a process complex in its nature, but instantaneous in time. It 
is complex, because the soul, in its single act, discerns two objects — its 
own condition and some material reality. One of these is subjective, and 
hence is called a subject-object / the other is objective, and is denominated 
an object-object. One element is called sensation, or sensation proper y 
the other is called perception^ or perception proper. The one of these is 
an element involving feeling ; the other is intellectual, being an act of 
knowledge. Each requires the other. Each is the attendant of the other. 
There can be no perception without sensation, nor can sensation occur 
without perception. 
The elements un^ But though these two elements coexist, it is with unequal 

equal in energy ; " . . x 

in the same, and energy. Ihe one activity is always at the expense of the 

the different sen- , T „ ... . . „ ,, 

ses. other. It sensation is intense, perception is feeble. If per- 

ception is energetic and absorbing, sensation is weak and scarcely ob- 
served. The operation of this law is seen in the several senses, and in the 



128 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §113. 

differing states or energies of single and separate senses. In vision, as 
compared with smell and hearing, perception prevails ; while in the latter 
sensation is in excess. In the perception of bright and stimulating color, 
as contrasted with the discernment of form and outlines, sensation is con- 
spicuous in the one, and perception in the other. If we look at the un- 
clouded sun at midday, we cannot perceive distinctly, by reason of the 
blinding and painful sensations ; if its disc is overcast, or a darkened glass 
is interposed, the perception is more distinct and easy, by the repression 
of the sensations. 

This brief statement involves the doctrine that the soul in the same instantaneous and 
single act exists in a twofold activity. Stated in other language, it is, that every act of sense- 
perception involves the element of sensation and the element of perception. These elements 
need to be separately considered in order that we may understand their real character and 
their mutual relations. 

Sensation proper § ^ ^" $ ensa ti° n proper, or the sensational element, comes 
pertains to the f} rs t j n order. This does not occur alone or apart. Pure 
sensation is simply an ideal or imaginary experience. Its na- 
ture can be determined only by laying out cf view certain characteristics 
which always attend it. Though sensation always occurs with perception, 
it may be clearly distinguished from it. Sensation, thus considered, is 

A subjective experience of the soul, as animating an extended sen* 
sorium, usually more or less pleasurable or painful, and always occa* 
sioned by some excitement of the organism. This definition implies, 

First of all, that sensation pertains properly to the soul, as contra- 
distinguished from material things or corporeal agents. The sensation 
of touch is not in the orange, the sensation of heat is not in the burn- 
ing flame, but both are experienced by the sentient soul. The sensation 
of sweetness is not in the sugar, that of sourness is not in the vinegar. 
There can be no music when orchestra and audience are both stone-deaf. 
As all sensations pertain to the soul which experiences them, they can 
properly be said to be subjective. As the most of them are positively 
agreeable or the opposite, they are nearly akin to those emotions, as- hope 
or terror, or those passions, as anger and envy, which are acknowledged by 
all to belong exclusively to the spirit, and to involve no relation whatever 
to matter or the bodily organism. Such feelings are not infrequently 
styled sensations, though improperly. 

,8 113. Second, the sensations, though subjective in the 

Yet experienced " ' ? o «; 

• by the soui con- sense already defined, are yet experienced by the soul as con- 

nected with an J , . -i 

organism. nected with a corporeal organism, and are directly distin- 

guished in this from emotions proper, on the one hand, and from percep- 
" tions proper, on the other. The soul has a subjective experience of heat, 

^ v hardness, sweetness, sourness, etc., but it has this experience as an agent 

which is connected with and animates an extended sensorium. The sev- 
eral sensations, though like the purely spiritual emotions in being agree- 



§113. THE PROCESS OF SEXSE-PERCEPTION. 129 

able, or the opposite, are unlike them in being felt by the soul as existing 
in a peculiar form of being and activity, viz., that of corporeal sensibility. 
That which feels is not the soul as pure spirit, but spirit as animating an 
organism. 

It is but a part of the truth which Reid utters, when he says : " This sensation [of smell] 
can be nothing else than it is felt to be. Its very essence consists in being felt ; and when it is 
not felt, it is not. There is no difference between the sensation, and the feeling of it ; they are 
one and the same thing." "As to the sensations and feelings that are agreeable or disagree- 
able, they differ much, not only in degree, but in kind and dignity. Some belong to the ani- 
mal part of our nature, and are common to us with the brutes ; others belong to the rational 
and moral part. The first are more properly called sensations, the last, feelings.'''' Essays, 
Intell. Powers, ii. c. 16. 

Berkeley, Theory of Vision, says to the same effect : " The objects intromitted by sight 
would seem to him [a man b,orn blind], as indeed they are, no other than a new set of 
thoughts or sensations, each whereof is as near to him as the perceptions of pain and pleasure, 
or the most inward passions of the soul." Cf. Dugald Stewart, Elements, etc., chaps, i. and 
v. p. ii. § 1 ; Dr. Thomas Brown, Lectures, etc., 19-25 ; Prof. Thomas C. ITpham, Element*, 
etc., Intellect., § 49. 

Reid certainly would not say that the pain, or the painful sensation, which is occasioned 
by a burn, a cut, or a blow, is precisely like the pain which is occasioned by the death of a 
friend, the loss of fortune, or the failure of a darling project. Both these classes of states, 
when not felt, have no existence ; they both pertain to the soul, and to the soul only, as distin- 
guished from the objects which occasion them. Both are alike subjective. Both are alike in 
being disagreeable, hence both are called painful. But one is experienced by the soul as con- 
nected with an organism, while the other is felt in the soul without reference to the sensorium 
at all. They are not merely unlike, as one painful sensation or one painful emotion is unlike 
another in subjective quality or intensity, but as a sensation is unlike an emotion, in that the 
one is felt by the soul as known by itself to act and suffer as animating an extended portion 
of living matter, and the other is experienced by the soul in its capacity to act and suffer 
without conscious relation to matter at all. 

This peculiar feature of sensation is made still more obvious by the difference discerned by 
the soul between the sensation itself as a pleasant or painful experience, and the effort of the 
soul to retain or reject it ; in other words, by the manifest difference between the sensation 
proper and the consequent desire or aversion. The one is an experience of the soul as suffer- 
ing while consciously connected with the organism ; the other is purely spiritual, the sponta- 
neous acting of the soul's independent energy. In the sensation enjoyed or suffered, the soul 
is blended inseparably with the sensorial organism ; in the reacting or resilient desire it is 
sharply contrasted with it. In the one it knows itself connected with that from which it 
imagines it might be detached ; in the other, it knows itself to act as a purely psychical agent. 

" The organism is the field of apprehension, both to sensation proper and perception proper ;• but with this 
difference : that the former views it as of the ego, the latter as of the non-ego ; that the one draws it within, 
the other shuts it out from the sphere of self. As animated, as the subject of affections of which I am con- 
scious, the organism belongs to me ; and of these affections which I recognize as mine, sensation proper is 
the apprehension, As material, as the subject of extension, figure, divisibility, and so forth, the organism 
does not belong to me, the conscious unit ; and of those properties, which I do not recognize as mine, per- 
ception proper is the apprehension." 

"It may appear, not a paradox merely, but a contradiction, to say, that the organism is at once 
within and without the mind ; is at once subjective and objective ; is at once ego and non-ego. But so it 
is, and so we must admit it to be, unless, on the one hand, as materialists, we identify mind with matter, 
or, on the other, as idealists, we identify matter with mind. The organism, as animated, as sentient, ia 
necessarily ours ; and its affections are only felt as affections of the indivisible ego. In this respect, and to 
this extent, our organs are not external to ourselves. But our organism is not merely a sentient subject, it 

9 



130 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 114, 

is at the same time an extended, figured, divisible, in a word, a material, subject ; and tbe same sensations 
which are reduced to unity in the indivisibility of consciousness are in the divisible organism recognized as 
plural and reciprocally external, and, therefore, as extended, figured, and divided. Such is the fact : but 
how the immaterial can be united with matter, how the unextended can apprehend extension, how the 
indivisible can measure the divided,— this is the mystery of mysteries to man."— Sir "William Hamilton, 
Works of Beid, Note D* 18 and f cot-note, p. 880 (Cf. 35, 38, 39). Cf. J. Muller, H-B. d. Physiol, d. Menschen, 
B. V. 

The philosophers of the English and Erench schools have almost irniversally considered sensation as a 
phenomenon exclusively spiritual and subjective. Even Hamilton lays down the unqualified position, that 
sensation and perception are distinguished as feeling and knowledge. Most of them are by a logical neces- 
sity forced to distinguish perception from sensation, as being the apprehension of the objective cause or occa- 
sion of this subjective experience. They reason thus in the disjunctive method. Sensation must either be 
a phenomenon purely spiritual and subjective, or purely material and objective. It cannot be the last, 
because that would make it one with perception. It must therefore be the former. This conclusion waa 
accepted with all the inconveniences and embarrassments which are familiar to the student who is versed 
in the history of the various theories of perception. 

Those who reasoned in this way did not notice, that from their assumed premise another conclusion 
equally embarrassing might be derived, e. g., There can be but two classes of mental states — the simply 
and purely subjective and the simply objective. Sensations and emotions can neither belong to the last. 
Therefore both must belong to the first, or emotions and sensations are in their essential features properly 
classed together. This conclusion is contradicted by the conscious experience of every one. The only way 
to escape it, is to deny the original premise, and instead of the dichotomy or twofold division, to substitute 
another in its place which shall include a threefold possibility, viz., there are three classes of psychical 
phenomena possible — the purely subjective or incorporeal, the purely objective and corporeal, and a third, 
midway between the two, partaking of attributes common to both. These three are the emotions, the per- 
ceptions, and the sensations. 

§ 114. Third : It is implied, in what has been said, that all 
The sensations sensations are attended with a more or less distinct and 

localized. . / ■. , 

definite relation of place in the sensonum. This relation of 
place is at first very indefinitely apprehended; indeed, it may not be 
attended to at all ; but there nmst be furnished, in the original experiences 
of the soul, the means of discerning such a relation provided the attention 
is directed to the sensation. It is impossible to believe that a pain in 
the teeth or a pain in the head should not be known apart in place from 
a pain in the foot ; that a burn in the foot and a wound in the arm should 
not give directly to the mind the apprehension of a different place for 
each. If the soul, in the experience of all its sensations, knows itself as 
animating an extended sensorium, then in- each sensation it knows itself to 
be affected in some separate part or portion of this extended organism 
which it pervades. 

Those who regard sensation as a purely subjective experience or phenomenon, exclude 
from it all the relations of place or locality. These relations they appropriate to the causes of 
the sensations. If an infant has a pain in the foot and a pain in the head, as sensations or 
pains these are simply spiritual or psychical experiences. It is only when the causes of these 
phenomena are discovered that the relations of place can be discerned. A different view of 
the nature of pure sensation involves different consequents in respect to all the relations of 
place. 
" When it is asserted that every sensation gives or might give a relation of place, it is not 

W intended that the relations of place involved in and given by the direct experience of an 

original sensation are or could be apprehended so completely and so definitely as they are by 
the aid of experience and the acquired perceptions ; but only that some knowledge, or the 
materials for such knowledge, must be furnished in the original sensations. 



§ 117. THE PROCESS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 13 J 

Differ from one § 115, Fourth : The different sensations, as subjective expe. 
iT°ind r iefim£ r ^ e]QCes °f tne sou ^ differ greatly from one another in respect 
ness - to quality and intensity ; in other words, they differ in kind 

and degree. Each of the leading classes of sensations differs from each 
of the other classes, as the sensations of sight from the sensations of touch 
Under each of these broadly distinguished classes or kinds, special sensa- 
tions differ from one another; as the different tastes, feelings, smells, 
colors, etc., etc. What are called the same sensations, differ also in energy, 
strength, or intensity ; as one shade of the same color, as red, is deeper 
or more intense than another shade ; one odor is more pungent than an- 
other. These several sensations are the subject-matter of direct or intui- 
tive apprehension. We know that they are, and we know what they are 
by direct experience. We know them in their relations also — i, e., in 
their likenesses and differences, positions, etc. — by direct discernment. 
No other explanation can be given of these facts than that we know them 
to be, and know what they are, by direct intuition. 

Fifth : The different sensations differ in respect to the greater or less 
definiteness of {he part or place of the sensorium which is affected. Thus, 
a sound or a smell is far less distinctly defined in any relations of place 
than a sight or a touch. But more of this in another place. 

We come next to perception or perception proper. 
Perce tion ro - § H6. This, as has already been explained, is no separate 
er, an act of ac t or s t a te of the soul ; it is only a separable or distin- 

puro knowledge. J r 

its object. guishable element of a single complex act. Perception, as 

such, is, 

First : Clearly and distinctly an act of objective knowledge, and of 
knowledge only. The sensational element is an element of feeling, attend- 
ed, indeed, with the knowledge that the soul which feels animates an 
extended organism ; but in the perceptional act the soul knows, and only 
knows. 

But if it knows, it knows some being as its object (§ 48). But what being does it 
affirm ? We answer, The being which is the joint product of the material agent or substance 
and the sentient organism. What we perceive when we touch and see, much more when we 
smell, hear, and taste, is that which is prepared for our knowledge by the action of the ex- 
citant, whatever it may be, whether objective or subjective, and the organism animated by a 
sentient soul. In perception proper we do not know the excitant apart, nor do we know the 
organism apart, only the result of their joint actioii. This we know as an object, with which 
the mind is confronted, both as a sentient and as a percipient. As a sentient it responds to ita 
presence by that subjective condition called sensation ; as a percipient, it knows the object to be. 

The agency of the soul in its acts of knowing, as has already been explained, should be 
carefully distinguished from its agenoy in preparing and even in presenting objects for it to 
know (§47). 

;> v . A 8 117. Second: This knowledge is objective — i. e.. the soul 

Its object a non- ° ° J ' 

tm. what kind not only knows the object to be, but it knows it is not itself. 

of a zion-ego. ^^ . ° 

What it knows is a non-e^o, a not-me, a not-self. But from 



132 THE HUMAN intellect. §118 

what self, or ego, does it distinguish the object ? or what kind of non-egc 
does the perceiving soul distinguish ? Is it what is usually called a mate- 
rial object, distinguished from the organism or the body which the soul 
animates and moves ? or is it the organism itself which the soul distin- 
guishes from itself, though it animates and moves it ? We answer, In 
perception, comprehensively viewed, both of these objects are distin- 
guished by the soul from itself, viz., the material object, which is not the 
body, and the body itself, which is not the soul. The process is not com- 
plete till both these objects are distinguished from one another, and from 
the soul itself. But our present inquiry is, Which of these objects is 
apprehended in perception proper ? which is known, or might be known t 
in connection with every sensation, or in every act of sense-perception ? 
We answer, The bodily organism itself, or rather that part of the senso- 
rium which is excited to action. What the soul directly perceives — i. e., 
distinguishes from itself — is its own sensitive organism, so far as it is 
excited to sensation. This is that which it knows to be not itself, even 
though it knows that in sensation it is intimately connected with it. 
The immediate object of perception proper is the sensorium in some form 
of action. 

It deserves to be carefully kept in mind, that, as there are three non-egos — viz., the not- 
body as distinguished from the body and soul united, the body as distinguished from the soul, 
and the sensorium as distinguished from the soul as pure spirit — so there are three egos 
brought into consideration — the soul as animating or connected with the sensorium, the soul as 
connected with the body sensed and perceived, the living body as a whole ; and the soul as 
distinguishable from both sensorium and body. In analyzing and defining sense-perception, 
the attention should be carefully directed to the inquiry, Which of these egos or non-egos is 
intended ? 

It is not intended that, in the order of time, the infant does, in the earliest development 
of the reflective consciousness, apply the pronoun I to the soul as distinguished from the body. 
It is most evident that at first, and for a very long period often, this appellation is applied to 
the soul and the body as a complex whole. We need not even inquire what distinctions are 
made earliest in the order of time or of actual experience, but rather, what are necessary in 
the simplest acts of the soul— in those states which our subtlest and ultimate analysis can dis- 
tinguish, but cannot divide. What are those distinctions, the discernment of which no process 
can explain or account for, but which must be ascribed to an original endowment of the soul 
manifesting itself in a necessary and sovereign act ? 

§ 118. Third: The object in perception proper is not only 
An extended ]niown as the non-ego, but it is known as extended. Even 
' in sensation proper the soul knows itself as united with the 
extended sensorium ; much more when the soul, by an act of intelligence, 
distinguishes this sensorium from itself as a purely psychical agent, mast 
it know the object to be extended which it as it were sets over against 
itself. We do not here ask what extension is, or how it is possible that 
the unextended spirit can know extended matter ; nor do we ask what are 
the relations of extension to space, either in the order of knowledge or 






§ 119. THE PROCESS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 133 

of being. These questions are reserved for future discussion. We record 
only what the mind actually perceives, as attested by our experience of the 
act or process. 

This doctrine, stated in the terms of a more exact analysis, is this : The soul, in sense 
perception, knowing the sensorium in action, may know it in the two relations which it holds 
to itself, as at once a sentient and percipient. In the one relation it knows the sensorium as 
united with or pervaded by itself as a sentient : it knows it sensationally — i. e., so far as it 
experiences sensations. In the other relation it distinguishes it — the sensorium as being an 
extended object — from itself as a percipient — i. e., it perceives a non-ego contrasted with a 
percipient ego. 

No one can deny, that conceding that the soul in sensation is consciously united to an extended sen- 
sorium, it must immediately perceive this sensorium when aroused to action. But one may doubt whether 
this is all which the mind perceives. It may he asked, whether the extra-organic cannot be perceived 
immediately as truly as the intra-organic. Upon the theory here proposed, the not-body, or extra-organic 
matter is the object of an acquired, but not of a direct, perception, by a process which will be explained here- 
after. 

The alternative theories of direct perception are two. One makes sensation a purely spiritual experi- 
ence, and gives to the mind a power of directly perceiving its attendant object or its cause— known directly 
or inferred somehow to be extended. 

The other makes sensation to be organic, and of course to involve place and extension, and perception 
to be the direct knowledge of an extra-organic object or agent, which is also extended and causal of the 
intra-organic sensation. 

It may be admitted, that the last theory is possibly true, but it must be shown to be necessary in order 
to account for the facts, and also to be most accordant with processes known to be performed in the early 
growth of perception. It is also inconsistent with the occurrence of subjective sensations. The question 
is of no special importance, except as it throws light upon the development of the intellect. But see 
§155. , 

§ 119. We ask, fourth: In the exercise of which of the 

Perception at- " . . . . . 

tends all the senses does the rnmd distinguish the non-egoistic and ex- 



. tended object — in the exercise of one or two, or of each and 
all? The views which we have proposed concerning sensation involve 
the necessary consequence that perception proper occurs in connection 
with each of the senses. If every sensation involves the apprehension of 
the extended sensorium with which the soul is connected, then it follows 
that it is possible to perceive this sensorium, to whatever sensation it is 
excited, and that every sense gives the knowledge of an extended non- 
ego. Some of these senses do this with greater indefiniteness than others, 
it is true — as the sense of smell compared with the sense of touch, but all 
with equal reality ; if, indeed, it is true that no sensation can in fact occur 
without perception. 

It needs here to be observed — as, indeed, we cannot too often repeat the remark — that 
the perception which we are here considering is the perception of the not-spirit, or the direct 
apprehension of the extended non-e^ro, and not at all the perception of the not-body, or the 
reference of a sensation — e. g., of smell to an object as its cause, viz., a rose, or a honey- 
suckle. 

Those psychologists who make sensation to be a purely spiritual or subjective experience 
of merely intensive quality, and make perception to be the apprehension of the cause of these 
so-called feelings, either limit perception to the sensations of touch and sight, excluding it from 
smell, taste, and hearing — as does Reid— or confine it to touch only, as Dugald Stewart and 
Dr. Thomas Brown. 



134 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §120 

The philosophers of the Continent who agree with them in their views of sensation — as; 
for example, those of the school of Herbavt and Beneke — agree with them in derivin°- the 
knowledge of the external world from sight and touch only, either by direct perception, as 
Kant, or by some process of induction or judgment founded on experience. A particular 
account of their views will be given under Theories of Perception. At present we need onh 
observe that all these theories rest on the gratuitous and unauthorized assumption that anv 
sensation is or can be purely intensive or spiritual. 

The extension But wnile ea ch and all of the senses do alike give us an extended and exter- 
Alf obiect^not nal ob J ect > the y do not S ive ifc witn e( l ual distinctness and clearness. As we 
given with equal have already observed, the senses of smell and hearing are far inferior in 
this respect to the senses of sight and touch ; and so far inferior, that they 
seem to many not to give it at all. The muscular sensations are also more conspicuously 
present in the movement and direction of certain organs than in the management and expe- 
riences of others. As a consequence, the attention is almost entirely withdrawn from the 
apprehension of externality and extension which pertains to these sense-perceptions, and hence 
it has been denied that through these senses there is any proper perception. 

The varyino- re- § ^ 2 ^* ^^ s l ea ^s us to another topic — the varying relation 
tionand f ercT- °^ *^ e sensa tio n al and perceptional element in different states 
tion proper. f sense-perception. The general law is, that in every state 
these elements vary inversely — i. e., as the sensation is stronger, the per- 
ception is weaker, and vice-versa. The operation of this law is illustrated 
in the different sensations of the same sense as compared with one another, 
and also in the different senses. 

Of different sensations of the same sense we observe, that in 

In different sen- . . ." _ . 

sations of the some the attention is occupied more with the sensation, while 

same sense. . , -i -i . ,.,. ,. , , „ 

m others the object which it reveals is more thought of 
This is true of tastes, smells, sounds, touches, and sights. If any of these 
are very agreeable or disagreeable, the subjective pain or pleasure which 
they give, solicits and absorbs the soul's energy, almost or entirely to the 
exclusion of all apprehension of the organism, or of any thing external. 
If they are what we call indifferent or unexciting, there is opportunity for 
the mind to attend to the relations of diverse quality, of place, form, outline, 
which the particular sense admits of. It has passed into a proverb, that 
certain sensations are absorbing, transporting, ravishing, enrapturing, and 
ecstatic ; all of which terms indicate the complete occupation of the soul's 
energy in subjective enjoyment, or, as the case may be, in pain and agony. 
We freely remark of others, that in them we are cool, nnexcited, not car- 
ried away, self-controlled ; which epithets imply the possibility of any 
intellectual activity which may be required, the energy of simple percep- 
tion being, of course, included. 

The most obvious and striking illustrations of this difference may bo 
seen in different experiences through the eye and the hand. The appre- 
hensions of color are more sensuous ; those of form and outline are more 
perceptional and intellectual. In gazing upon rich and gorgeous coloring, 
whether it be of a splendid sunset, of brilliant autumn foliage, or of a 
glowing painting, the enjoyment is more intense and the excitement is 



§121. CLASSES OF SENSE-PEECEPTIOXS. 135 

more akin to pure emotion. In the apprehension and comparison of form, 
outline, and grouping, whether there is more or less of color, or none at 
all, the perceptional element predominates, and sometimes rises into the 
purely intellectual. But just in this proportion does the sensuous and pas- 
sionate sink and give way. 

In touch, if we take a burning or frosted implement, we are so occu- 
pied with the pain, that we do not notice its form, surface, weight, and 
many other peculiarities which a nicer handling would reveal, which deli- 
cate handling is rendered impossible by the absorption of the soul with its 
sensations. On the other hand, the delicate intellectual touch, which ap 
prehends minute constituents, slightly varying surfaces, gentle outlines, 
fine edges, etc., requires as an essential condition that the sensations be 
not at all obtrusive. He that passes his finger over the edge of a razor in 
order to judge of its fineness, must be careful that no painful sensations, as 
from a cut ; or pleasant sensations, as of titillation, disturb or distract the 
delicacy of his perceptive touch. In all these examples it is to be noticed, 
that in sensation proper we are occupied with our subjective condition as 
pleasant or painful ; while in perception proper we apprehend an extended 
non-ego. 

The illustration of the varied activity of the sensational and perceptional element in the 
different senses will be given in the following chapter. 

It should be remembered that the knowledge of an extended and external non-ego, which 
is gained through any single sense, or through each and all of these senses when considered 
singly, is very different from that complete apprehension of the extended and external world 
which is effected by the combination of the products of the several senses into single objects — 
which is matured by the processes of acquired perception, coupled with the insight of reflective 
thought 



CHAPTER IV. 



CLASSES OE SENSE-PEKCEPTIONS. 



We have only crossed the threshold of our inquiries in respect to perception. But our pre- 
vious analysis has established the conclusion that sense-perception is an act of knowledge 
gained in connection with sensations experienced by the soul as connected with an 
extended organism. The beings known in connection with each of the senses are properly 
termed percepts. These percepts are all extended non-e^os, and they are known in the 
relations of extension and externality. These percepts are, however, various in their 
quality and diverse in the organs and conditions by which they are gained. To under- 
stand this, we must consider that 

Three classes of § 121 - Tne sense-perceptions may be divided into three lead- 
K The'mu?: in g class es : the muscular, the organic, and the special 
juiar. sense-perceptions. This division is in part directed by the 



136 



THE HUMAN- INTELLECT. 



§121 



character of the sensations themselves, and in part by their bodily con* 
ditions. 

The muscular sensations, or sense-perceptions, comprehend all thosu 
which arise from the varying conditions of the muscles when in action and 
at rest. The muscles constitute a very large portion of the substance or 
structure of the body. They also pervade or are closely connected with 
those parts and organs which are not muscular. They suffer various 
changes, with which are connected a great variety of psychical expe- 
riences. These bodily changes are apprehended directly in or through 
sense-observation ; the attendant psychical phenomena are known directly 
by consciousness. Among these are the passive sensations of repose, of 
pleasant and painful fatigue, of distressing convulsion and cramp. To 
these should be added the sensations which arise from violently cutting, 
stretching, bruising, tearing, or otherwise injuring the muscular fibre. 
Those which are appropriately called muscular sense-perceptions are those 
which depend on the contraction and relaxation of the muscular fibres, or 
the varying relative position of the muscles. As we slowly stretch or 
violently jerk out the arm or the finger, as we rotate the wrist, as we tread 
or kick with the foot, as we strain the whole body to lift a heavy weight 
or to push over or against a resisting obstacle, or as we exert a part or 
the whole of- the body in manifold conceivable motions or efforts, we ex- 
perience as great a variety of muscular sensations. Scarcely one of these 
is distinguished by a separate name ; and the greater part of them escape 
common observation. 



They are ranked lowest in the scale of the sense-perceptions, because they are 
Ranked as the least definitely placed in the sensorium, because they cannot be distinctly 
' owest - recalled to the memory, and because they are usually the least positive in the 

pleasure and pain which they occasion. They serve most important uses, 
however, as we shall see, in enabling us so to direct and regulate the bodily motions as to dis< 
tinguish the individual body from the rest of the material universe, and to defend it against 
serious or fatal injuries. It is contended by many that we derive our first knowledge of ex- 
tended matter from the muscular sensations, as through their varying movements the infant 
first explores every part of the sensorium within, and that it is from the sensorium thus explored 
that it derives its measures of the material world without. Some hold that there are distinct 
though vague sensations appropriate to the muscles when in repose, as truly as when in 
motion ; that in these sensations throughout the whole body, slight differences are experienced, 
called by some their local coloring, through which the relative position of each is understood, 
and the sensations themselves become signs of place, or local signs. W. Wundt, Beitrage zur 
Theorie der Sinnes-Wahrnehmung, Leipzig, 1862; Lotze, Med. Psichologie, Leipzig, 1852; 
MikroJcosmus, Leipzig, 1856-1864. 

A few psychologists of a recent school have questioned whether the existence of muscular sensations 
is so well-established as had been supposed. They explain the direction and control of the limbs through 
the muscles very largely by the varying sensations of the skin, etc. But the more recent experiments 
have indicated decisively special nerves for muscular sensations and the connection of their excitement 
with muscular activities, independently of the skin. 

The muscular apparatus, as attended with and regulated by means of the muscular sensations, is 
called the locomotive apparatus, and the exertion of it the "locomotive. e?ier#y," as the term is applied bj 
Hamilton. 



§123. CLASSES OP SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 131 

§ 122. The organic sensations are those which depend on the 
The organic. healthful or diseased condition of the vital organs ; such a;* 

the stomach, the lungs, the heart, the other viscera, and the 
nerves. When these organs are entirely healthy, and their functions, as 
of digestion, etc., are normally and harmoniously performed, they are 
attended with no very positive or distinctly noticed sensations. When 
they are injured or diseased, the sensations which attend these conditions 
are always unpleasant, often distressing, and invariably most readily dis- 
tinguished and recognized. The healthy man does not know that he has a 
stomach. The dyspeptic scarcely knows that he has any thing besides ; 
he is so absorbed by the uncomfortable or painful sensations that are occa- 
sioned by the diseased organ. The same is true of a man whose lungs, 
heart, or nerves are diseased. This class of sensations are more readily 
distinguished and recalled than the muscular, because they are more defi- 
nite and positive. 

The question is still in dispute, especially among physiologists, whether there 
Common sensi- is not a so-called common sensibility or vital feeling — i. e., a sensation equally 
billt y« diffused throughout the whole bodily frame. Of this common feeling, or 

feeling of life, the sensorium, as a whole, is considered as the single organ, 
just as its separate parts are the organs of the special sensations. The phenomena on which 
the advocates of this theory rest their views are the feelings of bodily exhilaration or depres- 
sion which are experienced at times by all men, and which cannot be assigned to any part of 
the frame as their seat or place. Inasmuch as these sensations in our experience seem to be 
diffused through the whole body, and inasmuch as no organ can be discovered as their seat, it 
is argued that this common sensibility ought to be enumerated in addition to the special sensa- 
tions. But this is denied by others, because no organ can be assigned for such a function. 

A view reconciling the two conflicting theories would make the diffused nervous substance 
the organ or seat of this general feeling ; while its specialized or determinate parts are the 
organs and seats of special sensations. The feelings of heat and cold, of shivering, etc., etc., 
might perhaps be assigned to the organism as a whole, as well as many other undefined inter- 
nal feelings which can be fixed in no place or allotted to no organ, either through inner expe- 
rience or sense-observation. For the psychologist, the question has little interest or impor- 
tance, except, perhaps, in some relation which it may be supposed to have to the apprehen- 
sion of extension and space. 

The organic sensations are often blended with the muscular. The vital organs are in part 
muscular, or intertwined with muscular fibre, as the heart, the stomach, etc. Their special 
affections are therefore experienced in constant connection with normal or abnormal muscular 
sensations, and both are assigned to the same part of the sentient organism. 



8 123. The special sense-perceptions constitute the remaining 

The special ° , _ A . \ kn ,i -i- .• • - ^ 

sense-percep- and the most important class. All these are distinguished 
by this marked peculiarity, that they are experienced through 
organs specially constructed for the sole function of sense-perception. 

They are the so-called five senses : Smelly taste, hearing, touch, and 
sight. Each of these is' clearly distinguished from every other, and 
each of them is assigned its own organ or organs. 



138 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §123. 

The oreran of smell is the nostrils, which open into the two 

Smell : its or- ,p _ _ . ' * 

gan, conditions, nasal iossse, the plates 01 which are overlaid by a mucous 
membrane called the pituitary membrane. The passages be* 
tween these plates are somewhat tortuous, giving extent of surface for 
the expanse of membrane, and the ramifications of the olfactory nerve. 

This organ is in immediate contiguity with the organs of taste, with 
which it acts in ready sympathy. Offensive smells occasion nausea and 
disinclination to food. Savory odors, on the other hand, stimulate the 
appetite. 

It is generally believed that smell is excited only by the contact of the interior surface of 
the organ with minute portions of matter, or gases diffused through the atmosphere. Many 
substances that are highly odorous are also extremely volatile, and diminish rapidly in bulk or 
weight by exposure to the atmosphere. In most, if not all such cases, the substances are such 
as can be readily acted on by oxygen. On the other hand, the fragrant woods, as sandal-wood 
and cedar, continue for a century to be as fragrant as at first, and their substance is for years, 
to all appearance, unchanged and unchangeable. 

But whatever uncertainty there may be in respect to the 

Names and char- , . . ... ^ 

acter of the sen- occasions oi these sensations, with the sensations themselves 
we are all familiar. Their varieties are almost endless. The 
odors from flowers, from food, from perfumes, from woods, from earths, 
from metals, and from many other objects, are too numerous to be classed 
or named except in a very general way. We class them in a few general 
groups or divisions, as quickening, refreshing, depressing, sickening, aro- 
matic, spicy, etc., etc. We name them usually from the objects which 
excite them, as the odor of the violet and the lilac, of the rose and the 
tube-rose, of the peach and the apple, of cedar and camphor- wood. 

The influence of odors and smells upon the nervous system, and through this upon the 
activity and energy of the soul, ought not to be passed over. Fragrant odors, as of flowers, 
freshly dried hay, spicy herbs, those of certain perfumes, of pungent salts and medicines, 
excite the energies and refresh the spirits ; while sickening and stifling smells depress the 
energies, and induce discouragement and faintness. It is not easy in all cases to separate the 
influence of the sensation on the nervous system, from some specific action of the substance 
smelled upon the stomach or the lungs, or from a purely physiological action upon the nerves. 

It is to be remembered that the so-called sensations are in 
They are sense- truth sense-perceptions — i. 6., they involve apprehended rela 

perceptions. L x . 

tions of externality and extension. The experience of every 
odor, according to the explanation already given, must be referred to 
some part of the sensorium. These sensations are, however, very unde- 
fined in their place and limits, and hence it has been supposed they are 
purely psychical. They cannot be distinctly recalled in the imagination or 
memory. Hence, in our actual perceptions of objects, they are referred 
directly to the object as seen or handled. That is, the object seen or 
touched occupies the attention nnd engrosses the memory, and not the 



§ 124. CLASSES OF SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 139 

object smelled. Because of this vagueness in these sense-perceptions, and 
because many of their material occasions or agents are known to be invisi 
ble, impalpable, volatile, and diffusible, the sense itself is fancifully yet 
pleasantly said to reveal the interior and ethereal essence of material things, 
and hence to be especially elevated and refined in its own nature. 

The language and. terms taken from this sense are transferred to super- 
sensual objects, especially to the moral and the religious. The odor of 
incense, ' the offence that is rank, and smells to heaven,' and the like, are 
examples of such an application. 

§ 124. The organs of taste are the tongue, the palate, and a 
an? e v t ° rgails P or ti° n of the pharynx. These are also truly, though imper 

fectly, organs of touch. But owing to some peculiarity of 
the mucous membrane with which they are encased, they yield a variety 
of special sensations called taste. The tasting organ, so far as it can be 
traced, consists of minute papillas, which cover the upper surface of the 
tongue and the inner cavity of the mouth. 

Sapid substances, to be prepared for tasting, must be made liquid. 
Those which are hard and compact, must be broken by mastication and 
dissolved in the saliva. The 'harder the substance and the slower -the 
process of dissolving, the longer does the taste continue. 

The sensations of taste are various in kind and almost count 
Variety of the } ess j n number. They are capable of being so combined as to 

sensations. J • r .' . 

produce singular modifications and striking contrasts. They 
can thus, to some extent, be changed by custom and formed by art. 
Tastes that are at first positively disagreeable, become pleasant by beius; 
connected with a stimulant effect upon the nervous system — as the pun- 
gent and fiery taste of strong liquors, and the nauseating taste of tobacco. 
Or the sense-organ itself becomes Jess sensitive in its energy, and of 
course less offended by the sensations which were at first more intense, 
and therefore positively disagreeable. 

Tastes, like smells, are designated by a few general epithets, 
How designated, as pungent, bitter, sweet, spicy, acrid, sharp; more precisely 

by the objects which occasion them, as the taste of pepper 
or alum, of the peach or the plum, of different vegetables and meats. 0$ 
this language or vocabulary of taste we may say in general, that it is taken 
originally from the sense of touch, as the obvious meaning of some of the 
terms, and the less obvious roots of others, both indicate. The reason is obvi- 
ous. The organ of taste is also an organ of touch. The tongue touches as 
well as tastes. Certain tastes are attended with certain touches. 

It ought not to escape our notice in this connection, that the sense of 
the beautiful and the sublime in nature, art, and literature, and the ca- 
pacity for judging rightly of its occasions or sources, is called taste in 
many languages ; a singular transfer of a term from one of the grossest of 
the animal capacities to one of the highest of the psychical endowments. 



uo 



THE HUMAX INTELLECT. 



§125 



It is exj;)lained by the fact that the corporeal sense of taste is susceptible 
of fine discriminations and of great delicacy of culture. 

The gratifications of this sense constitute a large portion of 
Gratifications. our animal enjoyments. When these gratifications are regu- 
lated by a regard to health, to future capacity for intellectual, 
moral, and religious activity and culture, and especially when they are con 
nected with social and domestic pleasures, they are by no means to be 
despised or disesteemed. .On the other hand, it is to be remembered that, 
when denied or when pampered, they easily degenerate into the most im- 
perious cravings of our nature. Hence they are perverted so easily, and 
ripen so soon into frightful and debasing appetites. 

The question is never mooted, whether the sensations of taste 
Objective reia- are purely subjective, or independent of all perceptions of 
externality and extension. They cannot, in fact, be experi 
enced apart from the exercise of touch, which, by the concession of all, 
involves the apprehension of these relations. It is inconceivable that the 
one should not accompany the other. We can form no imagination of a 
taste which is not also a touch, bringing into active requisition the dis- 
crimination of external and extended objects. ~Nor is taste, as a sensation, 
conceivable except as an affection of that part of the sensorium which 
pervades the surfaces of the tongue and palate. 

§ 125. The sense of hearing comes next in order. Its organ 
Hearing : its or- } s a complicated and convoluted bony tube or chamber, re- 
sembling somewhat the interior of a snail-shell, and furnished 
externally with an expanded appendage, the surface of which is corru- 
gated somewhat after the manner of the bony passage within. The object 
of the external ear (which with the internal constitutes the organ), is to 
receive, convey, and quicken the vibratory action of the air till it reaches 
the tympanum. This is a parchment-like substance, which bears, through 
a chain of bones (osseleis d'oaie), upon a liquid within. The arrangement 
of this entire structure, when judged by mechanical principles, is obvi- 
ously adapted and designed to carry and increase vibratory action. But 
the vibrating tympanum is not itself hearing. Though we seek for the 
spirit of sound in all these narrow and winding chambers, we cannot find 
it there ; but it flees from our search like a shadow or a mocking spirit. 
It is the soul which lives in the sensorium that hears. When the tym- 
panum is made to vibrate with requisite intensity and rapidity, and the 
nervous apparatus is unharmed, and the soul is attent, then does it experi- 
ence those peculiar sense-perceptions which we call the sensations of sound. 



Every body which emits or conveys sound is susceptible of vibration. The 
"bod- sonorous body with which we are most familiar, is the atmosphere, which, by 
being everywhere present, is the constant and the pervading medium of 
sound. Many solid bodies are, however, capable of more delicate vibra- 
tiou?, and hence are more perfect conductors of sound ; or perhaps they owe their effect on 



Sonorons 

ies ; how charac 

terized 



§ 125. CLASSES OF SENSE-PEECEPTIONS. 14] 

the sensorium in part to the vibrations which touch conveys through the bony structure. A 
stick of timber will convey to the ear in contact with it, a whisper or the scratch of a pin for 
scores or hundreds of feet. If the ear is brought in contact with a musical instrument, either 
directly or through the medium of some intervening substance, the intensity of the sound ii 
greatly increased. 

Of these sensations there is a great variety. What deserves 
J"he sensations especial notice is, that each one of this endless variety is 

various. * 7 J 

readily distinguished from every other, and very many of 
them can be recalled and recognized. A single human voice is capable of 
emitting a great variety in respect to quality, tone, and pitch. The voice 
of each individual has its distinguishable characteristic in each of these 
particulars. The wind sighs and whistles and groans in the forest, or 
beats and rolls among the clouds like resounding waves. Almost every 
substance has a sound of its own when it strikes or falls upon another, 
and this sound can be varied in quantity and quality. Of these varieties 
of single sensations, some are agreeable, others are offensive ; others still 
are indifferent, but clearly and readily distinguishable. These last serve 
the most important uses, as they convey definite and important knowledge 
of the qualities of the variously sounding bodies. 

Single sensations of sound are distinguished by quality, by 
in what respects intensity or loudness, and by volume or quantity. The dif- 

distinguishable. J j 2. j 

ferences in simple quality are surprisingly numerous, and are 
characterized by a variety of expressive epithets. Intensity describes the 
force of the sound, irrespective of quality: as low or loud, strong or 
weak. Volume characterizes the sound as completely taking possession 
of that part of the sensorium which is capable of being affected, and ex- 
cluding all other sounds but itself. Such epithets as broad, massive, over- 
whelming, etc., etc., express this characteristic. Besides these obvious 
differences, there are others less discernible to common apprehension, 
which are observed and named by elocutionists and musicians. The epi- 
thets by which they are characterized are technical, or terms of art, and 
hence are not incorporated into common speech. The epithets which we 
commonly hear are such as low and high, feeble and loud, soft and harsh, 
smooth and rough — sweet, gentle, clear, piercing, light, heavy, etc., etc. 
All these epithets, it will be noticed, were originally appropriated to 
the other senses, especially to those of touch. Some are derived from 
taste and sight. To a limited extent, sounds are named from the objects 
which excite them : as the bell and glass-like, the wooden, the metallic, 
etc., etc. But in general, the sensations themselves are so definitely and 
sharply distinguished, that they admit of a great variety of epithets which 
directly describe their subjective quality. 
sounds in sue- Besides these distinguishing differences in single sensations 

cession and com- ° -i • 1 i 1 -,-,. 

bination. Meio- oi sound, there are others which belong to sounds when in 

dy and harmo- . _ _ . " . - ' 7; , 

ny. succession and combination. Sounds of almost any quality 



142 



THE HUMAN INTELLECT. 



126. 



become pleasing when uttered in any regular succession ; especially when 
a series is made to repeat and to return upon itself, and its measures or 
intervals are marked by accent or beat. Examples of these are the beat- 
ing of a drum to a tune, the rhythmical measure of well-sounding prose, 
or the more regular and marked repetitions of poetic verse. If the sounds 
possess musical quality, these repetitions constitute melody, giving exqui- 
site sensuous pleasure to the ear, and, by expression, speaking so movingly 
by the soul. To this is superadded the more artificial and refined attribute 
of harmony, when sounds of different musical quality are given in concord, 
greatly enlarging, enriching, and elevating both the sensuous and expres- 
sional resources of music. Melody and harmony combined, when added 
to what culture has done for the voice, and art for the improvement of 
instruments, are the grounds of the elevated enjoyment that is ministered 
by the varied works of musical genius. 

§ 126. The sensations of sound are invested with even a 
Sii C an^g?. of kig ner interest, and applied to a still more elevated use. 

Without- the sense of hearing, vocal utterances do not be- 
come sounds ; and without vocal utterances as heard, there could be no 
language. As addressed to and affecting the senses, sounds are pleasing 
or displeasing, musical and melodious or the contrary, harmonious or 
discordant ; as significant of human thought and feeling, they are endowed 
with a wondrous and almost a sublime power. When we listen to a 
foreign language of which we are ignorant, or when we cannot catch the 
sense of our mother-tongue, it is to our ears a jargon or a chatter, or, at 
best, but a pleasing flow of insignificant sense-perceptions. But as soon 
as these sounds are understood, they are transformed, and, as it were, 
transfigured into a new nature by subserving a nobler use. They become 
the audible expressions of thought, in its most subtle distinctions and its 
most complicated connections. By this means — literally, this intervening 
medium — thoughts are communicated from one mind to another ; they are 
forever fixed, and become the permanent possession of the race. 

Not only are sounds significant of thought ; they also ex- 
fc3£T sive ° f P ress feeling. Even simple and inarticulate tones do this, 

especially if the tones are musical, or partake of musical 
quality. The whine of the beggar, the command of the master, and the 
threat of the enraged, are expressive as tones, even when no words are 
uttered, or when the uttered words fail to be understood. A plaintive or 
a triumphant strain of music is easily interpreted, though no thoughts are 
uttered in words. But when thought and feeling are both conveyed, the 
one by clear and well-chosen words, and the other by an expressive elocu- 
tion, and the soul is enraptured and elevated by eloquent speech, then the 
resources of sound and the importance of hearing begin to be appreciated. 
When, again, poetry and music lend both grace and expression to thought 
and feeling, we have a still higher example of the dignity of a single 



§ 127. CLASSES OF SEXSE-PERCEPTIONS. 143 

sense, and the wondrous uses to which it may be applied in the service ot 
the soul. 

In view of these relations, the sense of hearing has been 
The dignity of ranked higher than any other. It effects a connection be- 

heaxmg, & J 

tween one soul and another ; it enables the spirit to breathe 
out feelings which even articulate speech cannot utter. Its dignity and 
worth are especially illustrated in the case of the blind. It is to them the 
subtle conveyancer of those emotions, which to others the eye, the counte- 
nance, the attitude, and the gesture all combine in expressing. To the 
blind the voice softens in tenderness, thrills with love, is harsh from anger, 
and lingers in entreaty. To him every tone breathes an expressed emo- 
tion. An intelligent and educated blind man once remarked with great 
intensity of meaning- "The human voice is to me the'divinest endow- 
ment of man." 



We need, perhaps, to repeat the observation, that what the soul experiences 
Sounds ; sense- in hearing is truly a sense-perception — i.' e., as already explained, it is an 
perceptions. affection of the soul as connected with the extended organism with which it 

connects and from which it distinguishes itself. It is common to conceive 
of sound as a purely spiritual affection, involving no relations to extended matter. It is con- 
fidently asserted that, were the soul capable of hearing alone, it would experience the suc- 
cessive sensations in listening to a musical air as only a series of delightful emotions, as phe- 
nomena purely and simply subjective. This, for the reasons already given, we think incor- 
rect. These sensations, like all the others, are assigned to some place in the sensorium, and 
if not bounded by definite limits, involve nevertheless the apprehension of an extended 
surface. These apprehensions are so indefinite, indeed, that ordinarily we do not regard 
them ; because we do not rest in the sensations, but use them as signs of the sense-percep- 
tions, or the relations which they involve. Instead of the sound, we think of the sonorous 
body ; or, if the sensational element is agreeable, we think of its subjective quality ; or, if it 
excites or suggests a series of warm or elevated emotions, we are absorbed in these. In other 
words, we are usually too busy ia the interpretation of sounds to think simply of them as sound- 
perceptions. We leave the sound itself unnoticed, except so far as its relations signify some- 
thing, and we pass at once to that which it signifies; in the case of tangible or visible qualities, 
to this class of properties ; when it conveys thought or feeling, to the intellectual or emotional 
import which we interpret. The range of this significance is so vast, varied, and interesting, 
that it is not surprising that it occupies our chief attention, and leads us to overlook the rela- 
tions of the sound to place or extent in the sensorium, and even causes that we fail to advert 
to the fact that it has such relations. These are not obtrusive to the attention at any time ; at 
best, they are but vaguely apprehended ; but that they are perceived, is manifest from the con- 
siderations already noticed, and also from this, that an intense or extraordinary sound always 
distinctly affects the ear — i. e., a portion of the sensorium which is defined to our apprehension, 
though vaguely. 

§ 127. The sense of touch comes next in order. The organ 
touch se oSan° f °^ ^is sense is the skin. The skin is the external covering 

of the body, and the lining of certain internal cavities, as the 
mouth. The sensations depend on the action of certain minute papillae, 
which are placed beneath the external cuticle, and each one of which 



144 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §127 

encloses the termination of a nerve, or of a nervous branch or branchlet. 
Different portions of the skin are more or less sensitive, and the percep- 
tions which are gained through them are more or less delicate, according 
to the number of the nerves and the fineness and compactness of the 
nervous terminations. The thickness or thinness of the external covering 
or cuticle is also an important circumstance. In general, we may say that 
those portions of the body in which the perceptions are least acute and 
discriminating are the most scantily supplied with nerves, and their 
branches extend over a very large surface — in some cases over several 
square inches. In the more sensitive parts of the body, on the other 
hand, there are very many distinct nerves and nervous branches and 
branchlets. 

The distinguished physiologist, E. H. Weber, was the first who instituted a 
Weber's experi- series of careful experiments, in order definitely to ascertain the different 
me degrees of sensitiveness in touch which are natural to different parts of the 

body. He employed for this purpose the points of a pair of dividers, which 
were separated more or less widely and applied to different parts of the body. He ascertained 
that in some parts of the body these points could not be perceived as separate, unless the 
dividers were opened as widely as three inches ; while in others the extremities needed to be 
only the thirty-sixth of an inch apart in order to be distinctly perceived as two. Similai 
experiments have been made by other physiologists. The tip of the tongue, the lips, and the 
ends of the fingers, are the most sensitive and discriminating organs of touch. In some ani- 
mals, the lips — as of the walrus and the seal — are exceedingly sensitive. The antennae of 
many insects are supposed to be endowed with extraordinary susceptibility of touch. The 
human hand, inasmuch as it is lined with a sensitive covering, and — through its connection 
with the arm and shoulder, and its division into thumb and fingers — is provided with an appa- 
ratus especially adapted to regulate and direct the application of touch and pressure, is preemi- 
nently the organ of touch. E. H. Weber, De Pulsu, etc., 1834; also art. Gefuhlssinn, 
Wagner, H.- W.- B. der Physiologic See also Sir Charles Bell, The Human Hand; its 
Mechanism, etc. 

It is an essential condition of a sense-perception of touch, 
^on S^Juch di " ^at tne object should be actually applied to or brought in 

contact with the organ — i. e., with some portion of the sur- 
face of the body. According as this application is made with greater or 
less force, the sensation varies in intensity and the perception in distinct- 
ness, and sometimes the quality of the sensation changes in its nature. A 
light pressure or gentle touch, in the ordinary and normal conditions of 
the organ, is usually favorable to distinct or delicate perception. If the 
pressure is increased, the sensation may become excessive and unpleasant, 
and even positively painful ; while the perception is less acute, owing, 
probably, to the compression of the nerve or nerves. In some cases, the 
very slightest contact that is possible, with a careful avoidance of press- 
ure, as in the touch of a feather, is attended with the greatest sensibility 
and the acutest discernment. But the force of the application of the 
organ to the object of touch depends usually on muscular effort. It 



§ 128. CLASSES OF SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 145 

scarcely ever can happen that muscular effort is not called into requisition, 
either in positive and direct pressure, as of the hand or finger, or in with- 
holding from pressure beyond a certain degree, or in resisting pressure 
when it is imposed from without. All these efforts are directed, meas- 
ured, and controlled by means of varying muscular sensations which 
attend each form and degree of exertion. 

8 128. Hence it is that the muscular sensations always attend 

Variety of sen- ■ -.''■„ , ' ' ' V -i " ''' ' <-i •' i 

sations involved and often seem to be blended with the perceptions that are 

in touch. . i -r i • 

appropriate to touch. In the acquired or complex percep- 
tions of touch, these muscular sensations play a conspicuous part, as we 
shall see in the appropriate place (§ 145). In common language, and in 
the earlier classifications of philosophers, both psychologists and physiolo- 
gists, the muscular sensations were assigned to the sense of touch. So 
are and were the sensations of temperature, many of which arise from 
contact with a body warmer or colder than the touching organ, and hence 
in experience and imagination are referred to touch proper. Inasmuch as 
these various classes of sensations are all concerned in many of the per- 
ceptions of touch, it is necessary to consider each apart. 

The first class are the sensations of gentle touch, or of touch 

Sensations prop- . . ... , - " 

er of gentle proper. lnese sensations are occasioned more frequently by 
feeling an extended surface, but they may, and often do, 
arise from gentle contact with the extremity of a pointed body. Sensa- 
tions thus arising are neither pleasurable nor painful. One is scarcely 
distinguishable from another by its agreeable or disagreeable quality. 
Hence none of them can be readily reproduced in the memory. Pressure 
against a surface, or motion over it, both involving muscular sensations, 
seems to be required in order to secure from different substances sensations 
sufficiently positive and energetic to enable us to distinguish the sub- 
stances themselves, and to recall to memory the sensations which they 
occasion. 

The second class are the acute and often painful sensations 

Sensations in- n .. , ., . _ 

voiving violence that come from any substance that does violence to the 
organ, as the prick of a pointed substance, the cut of a 
knife, the stroke of a whip, the bruise from a stick. These sensations are 
all distinct and energetic, and occasion a shock to the nervous system 
which is more or less violent. They are more definitely localized than the 
sensations of touch proper, and more distinctly revived and recalled. The 
sensitiveness of the skin to affections of this kind is not proportioned to- 
the sensitiveness of its touch. It was proved by the experiments of 
Weber, and others, that those parts of the surface of the body which are 
furnished with the fewest and the most sparsely ramified nerves and 
branches of nerves, and are the most incapable of sensations of proper 
touch, are none the less susceptible to exquisite sensations of this sort. 
These sensations are not confined to the surface of the body, its interior 
10 



146 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §128. 

portions being capable of exquisite suffering from pricking, cutting, and 
laceration. Hence this class of sensations seem, from their occasion or 
origin, to be more nearly allied to those sensations which we have called 
organic, and which are most conspicuous when an organ is injured or dis 
eased. 

The third class are sensations of temperature. These arise 
tem S emure ° f usnau y from contact of the body with some material object 

of different temperature from itself. They are also experi- 
enced by what is called radiation, from an object not in contact with the 
body. In such cases the body may be said to be in direct communication 
or contact with the heated atmosphere, or the vibrating medium of heat. 
The sensations of temperature are, in many particulars, like the painful 
sensations which we have just described. They are like them in that they 
are not confined to the surface. In case of scalding from water or steam, 
or of a severe burn from fire, or of violent internal inflammation, or of 
febrile excitement, their causes are purely internal, and the affections are 
organic. The sensitiveness of the body to heat and cold is not propor- 
tioned to its susceptibility to touch. 

The fourth class are the sensations of pressure or weight. 

Sensations of • • . . -iti 

pressure and These, so far as they are definite and peculiar, are the slightly 
benumbed and painful feeling which a weight occasions 
when laid upon the hand or arm, when there is no muscular effort to sus- 
tain or resist the pressure. In such a case slight additions may be made 
to the bulk of the body imposed, without being perceived. If the same 
experiments are made upon the parts of the body which are more mobile 
■ — as upon the lips, when resistance and muscular effort is provoked and 
made necessary — minute differences will be perceived and appreciated. 
Accurate experiments of this kind were made by Weber, eliciting sur- 
prising results. Hence the so-called sensations of weight are very largely 
complex in their nature, being made up of muscular sensations. 

The fifth class are the muscular sensations, which have been 
The muscular alreadv sufficiently characterized. Not only do they enter 

sensations. J J . . t. 

very largely into the sensations of weight, but into all those 
sensations which require motion upon and application to the surface of the 
body which is touched. The sensations of the rough and smooth, of the 
adhesive and slippery, of the elastic and non-elastic, are of this character. 
According to the nicety with which these sensations are distinguished, is 
the delicacy of perception by touch. Success in any manual art depends 
upon this sort of nicety. Skill in sewing, engraving, and drawing, in 
the handling of tools, in driving, rowing, and playing on musical instru- 
ments, depends on the natural capacity for and the nice attention to these 
muscular sensations. They are equally, if not more important, to our 
judgments of form, size, distance, and the various relations of extension, 
as we shall see in considering the acquired perceptions. 



§ 129. CLASSES OF SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 147 

One feature all these sensations share in common. Though sufficiently alikt 
Sensations local- to be classed together as tactual, muscular, etc., etc., yet they differ in quality 
ized# according to the part of the body which is their seat. The tactual sensations 

on the palm are different from those on the back of the hand ; those on the 
Hand are different from those on the different parts of the arm, and so on through every por- 
tion of the surface of the body. The same is true of the different muscular sensations. The 
muscular sensations which attend the opening and closing of one finger, differ from those 
which are experienced in opening and shutting the hand. Those which we feel in managing 
the arm differ from those which are used in controlling the position of the head. The same 
is true of the other classes of sensations which are appropriate to the interior of the trunk or 
the vital organs. This fact is of great importance in the explanation of the acquired percep- 
tions. 

§ 129. From considering the sensational element in touch, 
P o r e C r e o P f t toucii S we pass to the perceptional. By perception proper, in touch, 

as in the other senses, we apprehend objects as extended and 
external. To touch has been assigned especial superiority in these dis- 
criminations. Many limit them exclusively to touch, making it the only 
agent through which we perceive, and assigning to all the other senses the 
sensational function only. Others, as we have already said, limit percep- 
tion proper to touch and sight. Our own view has been already defined. 
We hold that through every sensation, and of course in connection with 
every one of the senses, we perceive — i. e., we apprehend objects as ex 
tended and external. The perceptions of touch, however, differ from those 
of the other senses not only in being more definite and minute, in conse- 
quence of the greater energy of the sensations, but also (with the exception 
of sight) in their immeasurably superior variety. For this reason they de- 
serve special consideration. 

Let it be observed as a preliminary, that what we perceive by touch, or any 
Extension and , . . ,. . , , 

externality per- other sense, is not extension or externality in the abstract or the general, but 

concrete. 111 ^ on ^ extended and external objects ; or, more exactly, we perceive objects as 
external and extended. We do not, by touch alone, gain mathematical ex- 
tension, nor mathematical qualities, nor the relations of pure mathematical quantities to one 
another, nor to the pure or abstract space or time which we conceive to exist. We simply 
perceive extended and external somethings. We afterward know them as having surfaces, as 
extended in different directions, as having different forms, sizes, and dimensions. Every 
object which we perceive has a definite extension of its own, and hence can be compared with 
another object in position, dimensions, form, etc., etc. But first of all, it is and must be 
known as an extended object, distinguished from the perceiving agent, and from every other 
extended object. 

It is contended by many that the reason why we perceive extension by toucb. 
Perception of ex- . , , . , . .,.,., , . ' 

tension by touch, either exclusively, or in common with sight, is, that the organism itself is 

?y\xt e en P sion b in extended. We find, they say, that in those parts of the skin in which our 
the organism. perception of extension is the most definite and acute, the nerves and the 
nervous endings are most frequent ; while in those portions in which its dimensions are most 
vaguely perceived, these are more sparse. Hence it is concluded that two nervous termina- 
tions at least are required for the apprehension of superficial extension. Moreover, it is urged 
that, as the remaining organs, except those of sight and touch, are each furnished with a single 
nerve only, or, at most, with a single pair, that is the sufficient reason why, by means of these, 



148 THE HUMAN INTELLECT!. § 129: 

we have no perception of extension. In touch and sight, it is said, the soul being affected by 
sensations through nerves placed side by side in space, must necessarily perceive objects as 
extended. Some contend that this is done as the soul is affected directly by the outer termini 
or extremes of the sentient nerves. Others hold that the inner extremities of the nerves, as 
they terminate in the brain or other nerve-centres, present spatial relations, similar to those of 
their outer extremities, and so enable the soul to perceive the extended objects of touch. The 
same explanation is given of the perception of extension by sight. This view is held chiefly by 
physiologists, and, among them, by the distinguished John Muller, with whom many others 
agree. 

Of this theory we observe, that it overlooks entirely the difference between 
Physiological the physical conditions of perception and the act of perception. It may be, 
i C >sycnic°al S actf Ild and P r obably is, a necessary condition to perceiving extension by touch and 

sight, that many nerves should terminate side by side in the organs, and be 
spread over an extended expanse. But it is one thing for the nervous apparatus to occupy an 
extended organ, and entirely another for the mind, by means, or on occasion of the sensations 
which follow the excitement of these nerves, to perceive an extended object. The impinging 
solid and the impinging light are both extended ; the impinged skin or retina present a sur- 
face that is made up of nervous endings that are placed side by side. From the application 
of the one physical extension to the other — of the object to the organ — ensue the sensations 
of touch or sight, but the soul in its sensations does not feel that one or more nervous termina- 
tions are affected. For it is not aware that it has nerves at all, or that one or more are called 
into action. Nor is it aware that separate parts of its skin, or other organs, are thus affected. 
It knows neither nerves nor extended organs as organs. It takes note neither of the outer 
nor the inner terminations of its nerves, at the time when, or as the means by which, it appre- 
hends an extended surface. The spatial arrangement of the nervous endings may be a physio- 
logical fact, but this fact cannot be applied to the explanation of the apprehension of exten- 
sion as a psychical process. Moreover, this theory, and many others adopted by physiologists, 
involve the absurdity of making the soul first to know extension physiologically, in order to 
know extension psychologically — i. e., they require it to know the nerves as side by side, in order 
to know that very property which is essential to knowing an object as side by side with another. 
Besides, if two nervous endings at the least are essential to conditionate the apprehension 
of an extended surface, then the affection of one alone is not sufficient. This is conceded by 
all the physiologists who take the view which we are now considering. But if the affection 
of a single nerve does not give extension, how can the affection of two or twenty ? The 
placing of twenty lines side by side gives no breadth. Some contend that three at least must 
be called into action, of which the two outermost must be affected, and the one between be left 
inactive ; the apprehension of a nerve in a state of inaction being supposed somehow to occa- 
sion perceived extension. But the sensation of the intermediate nerve in inaction is still a 
sensation, and the problem would be, how, by the combined sensations from three nerves side 
by side, neither of which gives extension by itself, to account for the perception of an ex- 
tended surface. 

Another theory of the physiologists is, "that the perception of extension by 
Not by local touch and sight depends not on the knowledge of the spatial relations of the 
signs. nerves, but on the diverse quality of the several sensations, both tactual and 

muscular, corresponding to the part of the body which is affected. To every 
part of the body, on the surface and through the interior, there is appropriated a certain qual- 
ity and degree of sensation. When any number of these sensations are experienced, it is 
urged, these affections, experienced in their relation to one another, are the means by which 
extension is perceived. Single sensations, as such, experienced apart, give no relation of 
space ; but several, experienced together, give extension. To this explanation the objection 
is fatal, which we have already adduced, that any number of sensations cannot, by the circum- 
stance that they are experienced together, evolve any relation of extension, unless they giv« 



§ 130. CLASSES OP SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 149 

Extension when experienced alone. No addition of zeros will make a unit ; no multiplication 
uf breadthless lines will give breadth ; no experience of a number of extensionless sensation? 
will suggest extension. 

Lotze, the most eminent of the physiologists who adopt the theory of a diversity of sensa 
tions as local signs, himself asserts this, and expressly disclaims holding that the experience 
of diverse sensations originates the perception of extension or of space. He contends thai 
space must be assumed as given, but that the office of the diverse sensations is to make defi- 
nite and familiar the relations of the parts of the body to space. In other words, these 
diverse local sensations are the conditions of distinguishing relative position or place. Cf. 
I. H. Fichte, Psychologies § 155-163. 

One or two other theories, similar in their principle, and therefore refuted on similar 
grounds, might here be noticed, but we ,reserve the consideration of them for a more appro- 
priate place. These, and those which we have discussed, are alike exposed to one fatal objec- 
tion—that, even on their own showing, they can only explain the perception of superficial 
extension. Extension in the third dimension, they can in no way provide or account for. 
From all these theories, which fail to account for the acknowledged facts in our conscious 
experience, we return with greater confidence to our original statement, that sensations through 
every organ give perception, and in perception is involved the cognition of an extended 
object. 

In the exercise of touch, the tactual and muscular and other 

The sensoriuni . . . . y 

known as ex- more subjective sensations, are called into action. But these 

tended. ._ ' "' 'J , - ' ". _ .. 

all pertain, and are known to pertain, to the soul as connect- 
ed with an extended sensorium. This sensorium is known to the soul not 
as a collection of nerve-endings or nerve-expansions, not as having a 
denned inner content and limiting surface, but as found in various con- 
ditions of activity, involving the soul's own active sympathy of either 
suffering or enjoyment. All these sensations involve some relation of ex- 
tension and place, very vague at first, but sure to be more positive and 
definite as soon as the soul fixes its attention upon each. These relations 
comprehend all the dimensions of space, as truly as any. The soul, as it 
were, occupies and pervades the sensorium as extended in all directions. 
Its attention is first fixed upon certain of the sensations that are most posi- 
tive or energetic, especially upon the pleasurable and painful, the muscular 
and tactual. Then the local diversities and likenesses are noticed, and the 
relations of place within and upon the surface of the body become fixed. 
Differences in direction, form, size, etc., are fixed, by processes which we 
shall explain, under the acquired perceptions. But the condition of any 
of these processes is the assumption that in the original perceptions of 
touch, extension, or the extended sensorium, and this as extended in three 
dimensions, is directly perceived. But tangible objects are not only 
known as extended ; they are also known as external. This brings us to 
Dur next division : 

§ 130. Externality, or outness, is involved in the extension 

The perception ° . . V , . n i -n i. 

of externality by which is known by the sensations oi touch. Externality 

differs from simple diversity, or difference. Diversity may 

pertain to objects that are purely spiritual, as a series of mental activities. 



150 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §130 

But externality as apprehended in perception, as has already 
SterSt ings ° f ^ een ex pl ame dj i s tne diversity or distinguishability of an 

extended object from the spirit as non-spatial, and also the 
separateness or separableness of the material universe, or of material 
objects usually so-called, from the animated body. Both these relations 
are apprehended in sense-perception, and preeminently by the sense of 
touch. It is not only important, but essential, that these two meanings 
oe not confounded. 

It is also important to observe, that the externality which we perceive, 
is, like extension, not abstract, but concrete externality ; or, in more 
familiar terms, an external object, or an object as external. 

"We will consider the two senses of externality in their order. 
the 35rt agnifu First, we inquire, How does the soul, in touch, perceive its 

own body to be external to itself? We answer, as in our 
previous discussion, — precisely as it does through the other senses, by an 
immediate and inexplicable act of its own. It perceives directly its own 
body as a non-self or a non-e^o — originally its own sensorium excited to sen- 
sation. We raise this question a second time in connection with the sense 
of touch, because it has been often urged that its sensations are peculiar in 
revealing outness, or externality. 

Some — as Reid — contend that the simple sense of resistance or hardness, or that affection 
of the sensorium which every solid body occasions, directly suggests outness. 

Dr. Thomas Brown teaches that all proper tactual sensations, like other sensa- 
tions proper, are purely subjective and spiritual, without the suggestions 
rown s eory. ^ externality and extension, and that it is only through the muscular sensa- 
tions that the knowledge of the non-ego is gained. ' We open the hand or the 
arm, as we have done in a score of previous instances, without striking against an object. All 
that we experience is a succession of purely subjective affections — affections simply and solely 
spiritual. But we strike against a wall, or other resisting medium, and we ask, "What has 
caused this new sensation ? We answer, it is not myself, for I have previously had, or rather 
produced, only a succession of spiritual states, in a series of muscular sensations. But here is 
a change. I have a sensation uncaused by myself, but caused by a being different from 
myself. There exists, therefore, a being not myself, and so I reach the non-ego, or externality." 
To this solution or explanation there is this fatal objection, that to the suggestion of the non- 
ego there is required simply the experience of a single new sensation out of the accustomed 
order. To be sure, the sensation must be very distinct and positive ; as when, for example, 
the hand is smartly struck against a rock. Bnt it is not the character of the sensation as more 
or less positive which gives the inference ; it is because it occurs out of the accustomed order ; 
it is because, in place of the usual order of sensations, you have one that is new, that an exter. 
nal cause is required. This would require that you assume that the arm or hand should in 
every previous instance have been opened or stretched in precisely the same way. For, if 
there had been any diversity in the order — if, by any twist or jerk, a positively new sensation 
had been introduced without an external object — then an external cause would have been 
required, and a non-^o would have been accepted, when, in Brown's sense, there was none. 

But allowing that the order of sensations has been previously the same, and that, by the 
resisting object, the order is for the first time changed, in what does the change consist ? 
Simply in the introduction of a new subjective experience. The resisting object gives only 2 






§131. CLASSES OF SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 15 j 

novel sensation, which is still subjective. However unusual it may be, it is only subjective 
and psychical, and, according to Brown's theory, can give no relation of extension, and there- 
fore no relation of externality. Though, in the way supposed, a cause other than the agent 
might be reached, it would be purely spiritual, and not necessarily spatial. 

All these, and every other theory of the sort, have one common weakness — that they 
require us, by some arrangement or series or combination of sensations purely subjective, to 
account for or develop an objective, i. <?., an external non-ego. But it is obvious that it is not the 
greater or less positiveness of a subjective sensation, nor any change in the order of such sen- 
sations, which will elicit a non-ego, if it be not immediately discerned by the mind itself. The 
consideration of these theories brings us back with greater confidence to our original propo- 
sition, that the sense of touch is like the other senses, in that it gives the non-ego directly 
perceived, viz., the sensorium aroused to its appropriate sensations. 

lit in -^ U ^ wna ^ it may be objected, when I grasp a pebble, or an 
th« second signi- ivory ball, or a stick, is all that I perceive as external to 

myself simply the sensorium excited by the object grasped ? 
Is this the non-ego which I perceive, and this only ? We reply, that this is 
the only non-ego, which we perceive by direct and original perception. But 
do we not perceive also the object which produces these sensations ? Do 
we not directly perceive the surface of the pebble, the ball, or the stick, as 
diverse from the sensorium, and the body which it pervades ? Not by 
immediate perception. If we did, it would involve the inference that we 
perceive a non-ego, viz., the surface of the pebble as touched, and pro- 
ducing a sensation, viz., the felt sensation, which is also a non-e^o. That 
is, we should have immediate perception of two non-egos — the sensorium 
excited, and the object exciting it to a sensation. This is possible, but it 
must be shown to be necessary. We prefer the theory that externality in 
the second sense — i. e., the distinction of the not-body from the body — is 
discerned not by an original, but by an acquired perception, as will be 
explained in its place (§155). It is the result, not of a single act, but of 
a series of processes. It is in connection with the sense of touch, as we 
shall show, that these processes are performed with especial advantage, 
and therefore it is to the sense of touch that the knowledge of outness 
in the second sense is preeminently to be referred. For these processes 
the sensations of touch are especially adapted, because of the energetic 
and easily distinguishable character of those tactual sensations of which 
the whole bodily surface is capable, and because of the variable pressure 
and mobility which the muscles conditionate. 

8 131. The sense of touch is the most positive of all the 

Sense of touch, u . _ t x 

the leading senses in the character ot its sensations. In many respects 
it is worthy to be called the leading sense. The sensations 
which it gives, and those which are called into action in connection with 
rt, are felt on every part of the surface, and throughout the interior of the 
body and all its members. The sensations themselves are the most ener 
getic of- any that we experience. 

Moreover, the organ of every other sense is also an organ of touch, 



152 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §132 

and, as such, is more or less sensitive. We touch the food which we taste, 
and unless we touch it, we cannot taste it. Though the eye does not lit* 
erally touch the undulating light — i. e., in response to the touch of light, it 
gives no tactual sensations — yet, when the surface of the eye is pressed by 
the finger, or strikes against any solid object, it feels, and is pained. It is 
also acutely sensitive at times as a touching organ. The inner surfaces of 
the nostrils and of the ear, like the outer surface of the body, are suscep- 
tible of tactual sensations. All of these organs are more or less com- 
pletely provided with a muscular apparatus, by which they are moved, 
directed, accommodated, and made more attent for and subservient to 
their appropriate sensations. They are all capable of painful sensations 
from injury and inflammation, and from excessive or abnormal activity. 
The various sensations appropriate to the sense of touch are experienced 
in connection with those sensations which are the appropriate function to 
each separate organ. Hence the tactual and muscular sensations are very 
intimately connected with seeing, hearing, smelling, and tasting. In view 
of these considerations, it was said long ago, by Democritus, that c all the 
senses were modifications of the sense of touch.' The importance of this 
truth will be made apparent when we consider the prominence of touch 
in the formation of the acquired perceptions. 

In view of these facts, touch has been called, by some physiologists, 
general sensibility, or the power of general sensibility ; and the four re- 
maining senses have been called the special senses. Cf. Dalton, Human 
Physiology, Phil., 1866. 

It ought not to surprise us to learn, that the sense of 
Furnishes intei- touch furnishes most of the terms for the intellectual acts 

lectual terms. 

and states. Sight itself is indebted to touch for many of its 
terms. We take or apprehend a meaning ; we hold an opinion ; we com- 
prehend or grasp a train of thought or a course of reasoning ; we accept 
a proposition. Especially does touch furnish the words for those acts of 
the intellect in which the feelings and the will have a share. The reason 
is obvious. We touch and handle objects in order familiarly to under- 
stand their properties and laws. What objects we touch, and how we 
touch or handle them, is determined very largely by our feelings, whether 
of curiosity or indifference, of love or dislike, of caution or boldness. All 
these feelings are expressed through acts appropriate to the sense of 
touch, or by the modes of using its principal organs. Hence the spiritual 
acts or states generally are expressed by terms and phrases primarily 
applied to this class of bodily activities. 

§ 132. The sense of sight is the last which we are to con- 
sight; its organ, sider. The organ of vision is the eye. The eye is a struc- 
ture made like an optical instrument, and adapted to the re- 
fraction of light by a combination of lenses, and to the production, by this 
means, of a distinct miniature image of the object seen upon the retina, 



§ 132. CLASSES OF SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 15? 

or the dark network of nerves which lines the inner chamber. This 
image can be seen in the eye of some animals if separated carefully from 
its socket, and divested of the sclerotic coating behind. The surface of 
the eye is small compared with that of the organ of touch, but it is sus- 
ceptible of the readiest and most rapid motions, and of adjustments of 
position and direction, with little muscular effort, with just as little mus- 
cular sensation as is required for the discrimination and regulation of its 
motions. This susceptibility of easy and swift motion and adjustment is 
one of its most remarkable physical features, and is the condition of its 
marvellous superiority. 

The conditions of distinct vision are a proper quantity of 
The conditions \\ght and the formation of a well-refracted ima^e upon the 

ol vision. o 7 ... ox 

retina. If the light is deficient, or excessive in quantity or 
intensity, there can be no distinct vision. There is a particular distance 
for every eye, at which the most perfect vision of a near object can be 
attained. This distance varies considerably, from that of the so-called 
near-sighted, to that of the far-sighted. This variety of the distances 
required is found to be occasioned by a difference in the degree of the 
convexity in the lenses of the eyes of different persons, requiring a differ- 
ent focal distance for the object. The inability to see distinctly at a cer- 
tain distance may be overcome, or in part remedied, by a constrained 
adjustment of the retina and one or both lenses, through certain muscles 
provided for the purpose. The muscular sensations experienced by the 
adjustment of the eye in the effort to discern objects not seen distinctly, 
are important media in forming and applying the acquired perceptions. In 
order that the vision by both eyes may be single — and it must be single to 
be distinct — the two axes must be steadily fixed upon the same point ; and 
in order that they may be fixed, they must be inclined together. The 
muscular sensations, varying with the different adjustments of the two 
axes are important in the acquired perceptions or judgments of vision. 

These conditions are completed or furnished when a distinct picture on the 
Function of the retina is formed. This leads us to consider the function of the image on the 
retina ° n th ° re ^ na i or i* s relations to the act and the objects of vision. Concerning this 

there is confusion and error of opinion. The mind does not see the image on 
the retina. If it did, it must do this by means of another image, and so on ad infinitum. 
Nor does it perceive the image by a psychical act, knowing it to be an image on the retina. 
It does not know that there is a retina, till the anatomist or the optician brings the fact to 
notice. Nor does it know of nerves, or nervous endings, or nervous expansions, in the act of 
seeing. Nor can it be aware, in any other way, of the image as an image. That its formation 
is essential to the act of vision, we know by physiological researches, but not in psychical 
experience. Physiologically, we know that the one is necessary to the other. Psychically, we 
are not only not conscious of using it as a known means of the act of seeing, but we are con- 
scious that we do not employ it as such an aid or means. If this were kept in mind, serious 
difficulties in the explanation of the process of vision would be set aside. For example, it has 
been often asked, How can we see objects upright, of which the images on the retina are 



154 the huma:n- intellect. § 133 

inverted ? How can we see objects as single, whose images are double ? The answer to ques- 
tions like these, and the difficulties which they involve, is, that the mind does not use the 
image as a medium in the psychical act. It starts with it as given, setting off from the image 
as the last member or link in the series of physical conditions. 

The act of vision as a sense-perception includes two elements, the 
sensational and the perceptional. 

The sensations proper from light and colors are scarcely 
er°f a S°s?on r ° P " mai *ked m our conscious experience as pleasurable or painful. 

Hence they are feebly obtrusive. They rarely if ever attract 
the attention except when painful through disease in the eye or an 
excess of energy which induces abnormal action. In such cases we may 
say that it is not the proper sensations of sight which give pain, but the 
organic sensations arising from irregular physical stimuli. Some colors, 
however, seem to give a positive sensuous pleasure, as rich violet or pur- 
ple ; and a series of such colors, finely blended, occasions extreme satisfac- 
tion. But even in these cases the pleasure, so far as it is sensuous, seems 
to follow an exciting or soothing stimulus to the nervous system, rather 
than to arise from a positive and distinctively grateful sensation. So far 
as it is aesthetic, it is not sensuous at all. The pleasure from form and out- 
line, as distinguished from color, is still less sensuous. These facts explain 
why it is that the sensations of vision are less definitely located in the sen- 
sorium, and why, when the eye is known as their agent, the percepts are so 
readily detached from the eye and projected before it. The equally unob- 
trusive and feebly positive character of the muscular sensations which are 
experienced in using the eye contributes to the same result. 

8 133. What is the object perceived? The objects of vision 

Perception prop- " . ..,.,. -r^, 

er in vision. The are illuminated, shaded, and colored visioilia. When we 
call them objects, we do not intend that they are objects in 
the sense that they can be felt or handled, but that they are illuminated 
and colored percepts, set over against the soul by itself, and distinguished 
from itself by its own act of perception. The spectrum, as of a color 
refracted by the prism, or of a flame collected on a screen, is a real object 
of vision. So is the image that seems to lurk behind a mirror, or to lie in 
the depth of a glassy pool. The colored network that is projected before 
the closed vision is an object. In short, whatever the eye beholds is a 
visible percept. Moreover, what the eye perceives, and as the eye per- 
ceives it, is the sole object that is visible. This percept is always colored. 
When we say it is colored, we include, under color, light and shade. 
Darkness, even, is discerned by the eye only as the intensest and gravest 
of positive colors. When light and color are declared to be the appro- 
priate objects of vision, no opinion is advanced respecting the nature of 
light or color as a physical agent or material. It is not the physical light 
or color, but the physiological resultant of this as it acts upon or with the 
sensorium, which we see ; and this is all which we see. 



§ 133. CLASSES OF SENSE-PEECEPTIONS. 153 

This object is always extended. The colored percept is aa 
2naed ways ex " exten ded object, and it cannot be apprehended as colored 

without being perceived as extended also. Brown (Lectures, 
28, 9) insists most earnestly that the sensation of color is not originally 
. experienced in connection with extension, and that we connect the two 
only because and by means of an oft-experienced and inveterate association. 
Dugald Stewart {Elements) sanctions this view. James Mill, and all the 
associationalists, must of necessity adopt this solution. The following 
suppositions refute the doctrine : If two or more bands of color were 
present to the infant which had never exercised touch, it must see them 
both at once ; and, if it sees them both, it must see them as expanded or 
extended ; otherwise it could not see them at all, nor the line of transition 
or separation between them. Or if a disc of red were presented in the 
midst of, and surrounded by, a field of yellow or blue, or if a bright band 
of red were painted so as to return as a circle upon itself, on a field of 
black, the band could not be traced by the eye without requiring that the 
eye should contemplate as an extended percept the included surface or disc 
of red. 

This view of Brown, Stewart, and others, in respect to color, is only a special application 
of their theory of the sensations which we have already considered, § 113. Its untruth is 
made signal and striking by the extreme consequences to which it leads in the case of color. 
Our own view, supported by conscious experience, is, that every act of perception involves an 
extended object. 

The obiect of vision is, however, an extended superficies 

Visible exten- ■» . . ' . . . r .. 

Bion superficial only. Joy vision only, a sphere is perceived simply as a deli- 
cately-shaded circular disc. A cube is a flat surface with 
abruptly-shaded portions, bounded by converging lines. If we draw or 
paint from Nature, we do it on a surface perfectly flat or even. In order 
to do this with truth, we must first see the object, as without obtruding or 
receding portions. We must see every object as we should see it if we 
had no sense except original or direct vision. We must copy such as 
they appear to or are seen by the eye alone, and divest and clear them 
of all those properties which the mind supplies or adds to the object as 
simply seen. Indeed, in some visible objects certain of these original 
aspects are apparent and obtrusive. We cannot, with the utmost effort, 
see some objects as they are. When, for example, we stand at the end 
of a long street, the lines of houses, or of trees, or posts, approach one 
another till they nearly meet in a point. But they do not converge in 
fact ; they are exactly parallel. 

"The perception of solid form is entirely a matter of experience. We see nothing but flat colors ; and 
It is only by a series of experiments that we find out that a stain of black or gray indicates the dark side 
of a solid substance, or that a faint hue indicates that the object in 'which it appears is far away. The 
whole technical power of painting depends on our recovery of what may be called the innocence of the eye ; 
that is to say, of a sort of a childish perception of these fiat stains of color merely as such, without con- 
sciousness of what they signify, as a blind man would see them if suddenly gifted with sight."— John 
Ruskin, Elements of Dravring, pp. 5 and 6. London, 1857. 



156 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 134 

It has been insisted by some that the eye perceives more than superficial 
Contrary view, extension — that we discern by vision, depth, or the third dimension ; that 
The stereoscope. t]ie e ^ ag it werGj geeg aroun( j a S ph e re, or along the receding sides of a 

cube. An appeal is confidently made to Wheatstone's discoveries in respect 
to binocular vision, and the application of the same in the stereoscope. Wheatstone, as is 
well known, discovered that every object, as a statue, a cube, or a house, when seen by the 
right eye only, presents more of the receding surface toward the right than when the same ob- 
ject is perceived by the left eye. The converse is true of similar portions of such objects when 
seen by the left eye alone. He caused these two views of objects as seen by each eye singly, 
to be drawn and shaded exactly as they are perceived. He then presented each to its eye in 
the same plane and at such a distance that the converging axis of each eye should be easily 
directed to its appropriate object. He found, as the result, that the two objects were seen as 
one. For an instant the two seem to distract the vision, that vacillates between two objects 
and one. But as soon as the axes are steadied, and the converging gaze is fixed, they blend 
into one, and start forth from the background into the relief of a projecting figure. From 
this phenomenon it is argued, that, by the application of both eyes in vision, we perceive the 
third dimension — i. e., we see the receding surfaces of objects as receding, and not as on a 
plane. The conclusion very far outruns the data from which it is derived. The objects seen 
through the stereoscope are not in relief, but are in a superficies or plane. ~No third dimen- 
sion exists, but the usual signs of its presence are so striking, that the mind leaps for the 
instant to the conclusion that they in fact exist. The experiment of the stereoscope is so far 
from confirming the view that the third dimension is actually seen, that it shows most deci- 
sively that it cannot be, by effecting an illusion which is well-nigh perfect, even though the 
object is drawn and actually seen upon a plane. 

8 134. The question has been very frequently and very 

A single object , ... - _ -,'__. .. .•.%■.-,» 

seen with two earnestly discussed, ' How is it possible that the mind should 
apprehend but a single object by means of two eyes ? ' The 
question has been variously answered by physiologists. Some have in- 
sisted that one eye only is in fact used in the act of vision, the office of the 
second being to strengthen or reinforce the nervous or physiological action 
of the first. Others teach that the mind beholds two objects in fact, but 
passes so readily from the one to the other, as in effect to apprehend only 
one. Others have sought to solve the problem by tracing the impressions 
made upon the corresponding parts of each retina, through the correspond- 
ing nerves of each, to a common blending or meeting-place in the organ- 
ism, where the two are fused into one. So far as these facts are purely 
physiological, if they are to throw any light on the psychical act or object, 
they must assume that the mind performs the act by a conscious recog- 
nition of the retina, or the nervous apparatus, which is not true. 

The psychical act is occupied with a psychical object, which, as has been explained, is 
colored extension. It sometimes happens that, in consequence of a diseased or abnormal con- 
dition of the eye or its nervous apparatus, the mind perceives two objects, when it ought to per- 
ceive but one. How is this to be explained, and what light does the fact shed upon the rela- 
tion of vision with one eye, to vision with two ? We answer : In double vision the mind 
beholds two similar objects in two directions. Direction is a psychical element or relation of 
that extension and space which we assume to be a priori and necessary to sense-perception. 
That this happens by reason of a physiological derangement, we know ; but how or why this 
should occasion this psychical result, cannot be explained, 4pr the reasons already given. The 



§ 136. CLASSES OF SENSE-PEECEPITONS. 15* 

only plausible attempt at analysis is the following : ' In single vision two percepts are perceived 
in the same part of the field of view. They must necessarily coincide. If the one overlaps 
the other, the one must obscure or strengthen the other.' The case is not supposable, from the 
nature of the percept. Usually, the object seen by one eye, as it were, predominates and 
directs the knowing ego to construct both as one, through its interest in the interpretation of what 
(he percept represents, rather than in the percept itself. The possibility of such an interpreta- 
tion by the intellect will be better understood when we consider the acquired perceptions. 

ori - nai lace of § * 35, ^e <l ues tion also suggests itself, Where, in relation 
S e t visible per " to ^ e retma or tne e 7 e > * s ** tnat tne v i si kl e object [i. e., the 
variously-colored plane or disc first apprehended] is placed in 
the original act of vision : is it in the retina itself, or in the front of the 
eye ? or is it projected in space — say at the proper focal distance before 
the eye ? The question, in all its forms, supposes greater or a more ma- 
tured knowledge of space, distance, and position than the mind can pos- 
sess when it begins to see. The act of vision alone — i. e., as excited with- 
out the aid of touch — does not at once distinguish these relations, or 
direct the attention to the sensations which involve their recognition. 
The muscles of the eye play too easily, and the attendant sensations are 
too indefinite and indifferent, to allow us to suppose that the mind derives 
through them so distinct apprehensions of the optical sensorium as to 
separate from it the exciting object, even if we should allow that, by vis- 
ion alone, it could gain any perception of the third dimension — i. e., of 
distance. We shall see that it is by touch that we first gain definite and 
measured perceptions of this third dimension. Touch also, by its more 
positive and obtrusive muscular and tactual sensations, calls attention to 
the space discriminations which these sensations involve. There can be 
no doubt that in the order of development, so far as space relations are 
concerned, the eye first follows the hand, and afterward leads it. 

Position, or place, as applied to perceived objects, is relative. It supposes some objects 
to be fixed as starting-points, and others as standards of measuring or estimating distance from 
them. None such can be definitely fixed and familiar before the not-body is distinguished from 
the body, and before the hand, the eye, and the parts of the external body have been fixed in 
their relative positions. The vague knowledge of extended matter which the sensorium gives 
must first be made definite by a bounding outline ; and the most familiar extra-organic objects 
must first be placed apart from one another, before the eye or the retina can be known as the 
instrument of vision, or either can be distinguished as the place or the seat of the sense-per- 
cept. Long before these cognitions are attained, the sense-percept seen by the eye will have 
been carried by the hand into the space without the body, and irrecoverably connected with its 
sorrespondent touch-percepts, in the way hereafter to be described (§§ 15*7-9). 

§ 136. The superiority of the eye to the other senses is 
Dignity of the owing in part to the unobtrusive delicacy of its sensations. 

They do not occupy the attention and detain it from the 
object itself and its relations. The force and tension of the soul's activity 
are given to these. Vision is capable of far finer, discriminations than 
touch. A hair of the diameter of .002 of an inch can be distinctly seen. 



158 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 137 

The eye can also pass from one object to another with a swiftness which 
none of the other organs can imitate. In so doing, it can place data at 
the service of the intellect as quickly as the intellect can use them, how- 
ever rapid may he its movements. By its swift and wide-reaching mo- 
tions it can imitate the slower and limited motions of the hand, drawing 
outlines, constructing figures, measuring distances, combining groups and 
elements, with surprising rapidity and truth. The cultivated eye sweeps 
across a landscape, and in an instant the mind computes the size and dis- 
tance of its principal objects, and unites them together within a frame- 
work of mathematical relations. The minuteness of the observed distinc- 
tions, the vividness of the contrasts, the cheerfulness of the colors, the 
stimulus of the light, the sharpness of the outlines, enable the mind to 
hold fast its perceptions, to recall them vividly and at will, and to employ 
them for science, art, or practical life. The eye has always ranked as the 
noblest of the senses ; and many of the words which describe the actions 
of the pure intellect, as to see, to perceive, to discern, are taken apparently 
from this sense, though perhaps all are finally to be traced to the sense of 
touch. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE ACQUIKED SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 

Thus far in our inquiries we have considered each of the senses singly. "We have seen that 
by each of these we gain peculiar knowledge. We perceive sights only by the eye, and 
sounds only by the ear. In connection with these diverse objects, we apprehend certain 
relations common to all, viz., externality and extension. In other words, by each of the 
organs we experience a determinate sensation, and apprehend an object that is both ex- 
tended, and also distinguishable from the sentient and perceiving mind. The relations 
under which these objects are known, are apprehended more distinctly through some 
of the senses than through others. 

8 137. But the range of our sense-perceptions is far wider 

Sense-percep- ° , . _._ , , 

tions, original than this. We early learn to use one sense in place of 
and acquire . anotner5 or f several, and to apply the knowledge which is 
given by one, in place of that which belongs to one or more of those which 
are unused. Thus, if I go into a darkened room and perceive a peculiar 
fragrance, I know and say there is a rose or a tuberose, in the apart- 
ment — though I can see or handle neither. By means of the odor, I am 
directed to the place where the flower is placed, till I grasp it with my 
hand. If I hear a sound, I know it is from a piano, a guitar, or the 
human voice, and I know the direction from which it comes, and from 
how great a distance. If I look at an iron that is at glowing white heat. 
I say, It holes hot— though heat is properly felt. So I look at a surface 



§ 138. THE ACQUIRED SENSE-PEKCEPTIONS. 159 

of fine velvet, and say, How soft and smooth it looks ; or at a rough and 
prickly brush, and, as I gaze at it, I almost feel its harshness in my creep- 
ing flesh. 

The two classes of sense-perceptions thus characterized are the origi- 
nal and the acquired. They are thus defined : An original perception is 
one that is performed by a single sense, when exercised alone. Whatever 
the mind knows in this way, either of an object or of its relations, is known 
directly and by an original endowment of man. It is a pure work or 
operation of nature, and cannot be traced to art. An acquired perception 
is one which we gain by experience or exercise. We use the knowledge 
given directly by one sense, as the sign or evidence of the knowledge 
which we might, but do not, in this particular case, gain by another, 
im ortance of § I 38 * The importance of the acquired perceptions is mani- 
and time of gam- f es £ f rorn the greater frequency with which we brine: them 

mg, the acquired o j. .' o 

perceptions. { n i usej an d ^he confidence with which we rely on them, 
as well as from their greater convenience. Indeed, they very often 
enable us to gain information we could not easily obtain without them, 
and often not at all by a direct use of the appropriate sense. Thus, a man 
strikes with a hammer upon the head of a barrel, and knows in an instant 
whether it is full or empty, without the trouble of opening it. A surgeon 
applies his ear to the breast of his patient, and determines whether the 
lungs or heart are diseased, where, and how far. An architect, by a 
glance of the eye, sees whether the framing of a bridge or roof is safe ; 
or he measures off" the dimensions of its parts by the eye as accurately as 
he could by his hand, or an instrument. 

The time when, many of the acquired perceptions are gained, is very 
early. The most important, and those which are universally applied, are 
made in infancy, at a period earlier than the memory can recall, and by 
processes which the memory cannot untwine, nor any subtle analysis easily 
resolve. Others, which are commenced in infancy, are perfected in youth 
and early manhood. Many are not complete till the senses, through age, 
begin to fail, and the attention becomes less energetic and agile. We 
begin the education of the senses in the earliest moments of infancy. The 
artist, the mechanic, the musician, and the observer of nature, never 
finish it, till the organs refuse to aid and to serve the observing inind* 

Many of these acquisitions are made so early, that they cannot be distinguished from the 
original teachings of Nature. In very many, the process is performed so rapidly that it is 
difficult for us to believe that the mind goes through any process at all, the knowledge comes 
so simply and directly. Hence, the analysis of these subtle movements and their products is so 
exciting and instructive. To 4 untwist the secret chains ' which were wrought so nicely before 
we can remember, and by arts which we seek to imagine but cannot recall, fascinates us by 
the mystery of the problem, and challenges the utmost of our skill. 

It is better that we begin with those which have been made within our memory, of which 
the stages and the means are within our view and at our command. We may afterward ven- 
ture to unravel the more delicate tissues that have been wrought by the finer and more dexter- 



160 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §139. 

cms arts of infancy, in that early yet mysterious period when Heaven lies close about us, and 
seems to direct the movements of the soul. 

In explaining these later operations, we must suppose the process of sense-perception to 
be so far complete as to have given us distinct objects — material things, as we call them — 
made up of the varied percepts appropriate to each of the senses ; fixed or movable in space, 
possessed of varied qualities, as relations to space, and to one another and the percipient 
mind. But we may be allowed thus to anticipate the results of later inquiries, for the great 
advantage which it will give us in interpreting the unknown and the unfamiliar by the familiar 
and the known. 

Tho acquired § 139# ^ e acquired perceptions of smell and of hearing 
6meii ptioils ° f i nv ^ e our fi rs ^ attention, because they can be most readily 

explained. Our first examples are of odors. We experi- 
ence the sensations of smell, as from a lily or tuberose, from camphor or 
musk. We ascribe them to certain objects of given appearance and struc- 
ture, without the use of the sight or the touch by which the appearance 
or structure is directly discerned. The ground of this confident knowl- 
edge is experience. There is no reason a priori, why the fragrance of the 
tuberose should not proceed from the lily, and the fragrance of the lily 
from the tuberose ; no known cause why camphor and musk should not 
interchange their odors. We have simply learned by experience, that in 
all cases where the sensation is experienced, a certain object is present. 
This experience has ripened into a conviction so firm, that we connect the 
one with the other without hesitation, and act upon our belief without 
reflection. 

We do the same with sounds. We hear a sound, and believe 

The acquired . . . 

perceptions of that it comes from a bell. We hear another, and know it is 
from a drum ; another still, and say, There goes a cart, or a 
coach. We stand upon a height ; we make the ear attent, and listen for 
distant sounds : one is of the crowing cock, another of the axe of the 
woodman, another of a rifle-shot, another of a moving railway train, 
another of the cry of distress. Each of these sounds we ascribe to its 
appropriate object with positive certainty, on the ground of simple expe- 
rience. 

We not only learn in this way the objects which occasion smells and sounds, but we learn 
the place and direction of both. In a darkened room, or in a strange garden by night, we can 
tell whether the lily or the tuberose is near or far, and in what direction ; whether we are near 
to, or remote from a bed of violets or of roses. This is especially true of sounds. We know 
whether a ringing bell is on our right, or on our left ; whether it is high, or low ; whether a 
military band is far, or near ; whether it approaches, or recedes. That knowledge of this kind 
is founded on experience only, is obvious from the fact, that when the usual or the assumed 
conditions or occasions of our knowledge are changed, we are mistaken in respect to the place, 
direction, and distance of a sound, and that mistakes in respect to these lead to error in regard 
to the object which occasions it. The beating of our own hearts may be mistaken for a knock- 
ing at the door ; the trampling of horses in a neighboring stable, and the cutting of wood in a 
neighboring cellar, may be thought to be within our own dwelling. The rattling of a cart on 
a bridge may be mistaken for distant thunder ; the humming of a mosquito, for a distant cry 



§ 140. THE ACQUIRED SENSE-PEECEPTIONS. 161 

of alarm, or the sound of a trumpet. In such cases the sound must first be removed by oui 
mistaken judgment to a great distance, in order that it may be ascribed to a false occasion. 

"We apply smells and sounds to a still wider range of objects. By smell, we determine 
the taste of articles of food, the presence of poison, or of potent medical or chemical ingre- 
dients, the constitution of an ore or an earth. By sound, we judge of the quantity or quality 
of the metal in a sonorous body, of the density of a wood, of the kind of stone, and the genu- 
ineness of a coin. 

Acquired er- § ^®' ^e ac 9. u ^ re ^ perceptions of sight are still more nu- 
ceptions of nierous and interesting. These divide themselves into sev- 

sight. Distance & 

judged by size. era l classes. The first of these are the judgments of dis- 
tance by size. If we know the real magnitude of an object, we judge 
how far distant it is by means of its apparent magnitude. If we hold 
any familiar object, as a globe two feet in diameter, near the eye, and 
then remove it slowly, it will dwindle away first to an inconsiderable ball, 
and then to a mere speck. If we know its real size, by its apparent mag- 
nitude we judge how far it is actually removed. So true is this, that 
from a magnitude that is falsely assumed, we mistake as to the real dis- 
tance, and are as confident and as prompt in our mistaken perception as 
though the data and the inference were both correct. 

Let a person look over the coping of a wall, or the ridge of an intervening building, and 
see only the spire of a miniature church — say of a bird-house — and believe it to be attached 
to a real church, and he will at once see it as a very distant spire. Or let him, under like cir- 
cumstances, view a toy coach with all its appointments, and believe it to be a coach of ordinary 
size, and he will at once project it as far away as the diminished magnitude requires. In pure 
outline drawing, when no accessions of shading are added — as, for example, in the so-called 
etchings of Retzsch — distance is represented in part by diminished magnitude. 

Second: We judge of magnitude by the assumed distance. When we have 

Judgments of a full and distinct impression of the distance of objects, we see — ?. e., per- 

magnitude by .,,..-,, . „, , , 

distance. ceive — them m full size. We every day see men and other objects at long 

distances greatly diminished and dwarfed, and yet we do not perceive or 
judge them to be smaller than they really are. A lofty building viewed at a very great dis- 
tance, or a tall ship far off at sea, will even seem loftier than when viewed from a position 
very near, from which the beholder looks upward, without distance and other aids by which to 
judge of their height. The most impressive judgments of the height of the loftiest moun- 
tains and edifices are gained by seeing them at a great distance over an intervening plain. 

Judgments of Third : If the magnitude is unknown, or not considered, we 
color an outiin > J J U( ^g e °f distance by means of the intensity of the color, the 
clearness, etc. sharpness of the outline, and the clearness or confusion of 
the distinguishable parts. For example, should we view, through a tube, 
several trees of the same species, as the elm, 'the maple, or the oak, re- 
moved at different distances from' one another, the nearest would be 
known by its brighter green, its more sharply defined outline, and its 
more clearly distinguished leaves and branches. By these circumstances, 
designated technically as ' atmosphere] painters produce the effect of near- 
ness or distance, with accessories of relative magnitude and of more or 
fewer intervening objects. 
11 



162 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 140. 

The traveller in Italy, especially when he goes directly from England, judges the moun- 
tains to be far nearer than they are in fact. The atmosphere is so much more transparent than 
that to which he is accustomed, as to bring out the outlines and face of the mountains so dis- 
tinctly that he cannot believe them so distant as they are. There is now and then a fine day 
in autumn with us, on which the distant hills and rocks seem to come most startlingly near, 
and at times to hang over the valley in threatening proximity. By a double process of judg- 
ment, objects seen in a mist assume a gigantic size. The indistinctness of their outline forces 
the mind to judge them far removed ; the distance is incorrectly interpreted, and then their 
apparent magnitude at such a distance forces us again to invest them with gigantic propor- 
tions. The illusion is greatly heightened, if the mist is so dense as to hide the ground 
between the observer and the object. 

Judgments of We judge also of the size of objects, by comparing them 
equidistent 01 ^- w ^ ot ^ er objects which are or seem to be at equal distance 
J ects - from ourselves. If the size or distance of our standard of 

comparison is incorrectly taken, we misjudge altogether. Dr. Abercrom- 
bie {Intellectual Powers) tells us that, on going up Ludgate Hill toward 
the great door of St. Paul's, which was open, he took several persons, who 
were standing under the opening, to be children, whom he found, on com- 
ing up to them, to be foil-grown men. The reason was, that he assumed 
the height of the door to be less than it really was, and, by this false 
standard, he misjudged the size of the persons who stood under it. 

A striking illustration is related by Upham {Elements of Mental Philosophy) from the 
Edinburgh Journal of Science, No. vii., p. 90. Some defect being observed in the effect of a 
dioramic representation of Rochester Cathedral, an attendant undertook to remedy it by 
adjusting the canvas. As he passed his hand across the surface, it was observed to grow 
enormously large when it reached that part of the picture which represented the remotest part 
of the interior of the church. The hand, by the effect of the perspective, was first thrown 
back to the furthest extremity of the vista of receding pillars, and was then measured by 
the assumed size of the objects at the end. In this case there was a double judgment ; first, 
the size of the objects which were employed as the standard was estimated by their distance 
as represented in the painting ; and second, the hand was thrown very far back from the eye. 
Being judged by the estimated size of the objects thus enlarged, it was thought to be enor- 
mously large. 

influence of in- ^ ur i w ^ me?z ^ °f distance vary according as there are more 
termediate ob- or f ewer intermediate objects. Objects seen across the land 
seem further than objects at the same distance seen across 
the water. A given expanse of the sea is greatly enlarged to the eye 
when a score or two of vessels are anchored at different distances along 
its surface. A level meadow or prairie, with copses, trees, and dwellings 
interspersed, seems far more extended than without them. A salt marsh, 
when dotted with haystacks, seems wider than at the season when they 
are removed. 

Intermediate objects, by affecting our judgments of distance, affect our 
judgments of size. .The sun and moon appear larger when near the hori- 
zon than when toward the zenith. Through the influence of intervening 
objects and the dimming influence of the atmosphere, they are removed to 



§141. THE ACQUIKED SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 163 

a greater distance, and then judged to be larger. The sky itself, for this 
reason, is not the half of a sphere, but a section, of which the height is 
shorter than half the base. The moon, rising from behind a wood, is greatly 
enlarged, because its disc is divided into several portions by the trunks 01 
branches of the trees, by which its apparent size is measured. It is thus 
brought nearer than is usual, and then compared with familiar standards of 
size. The effect is heightened by the glare from the reflected light, which 
causes trees and moon to be blended into a common impression, and to 
stand in the same plane. 

When the ordinary standards of judgment are withdrawn, and our accustomed processes 
cannot bo applied, we are either greatly embarrassed, and even bewildered, or we fall into 
serious and amusing errors. Captain Parry says : " "We had frequent occasion, in our walks on 
shore, to remark the deception which takes place in estimating the distance and magnitude of 
objects over an unvaried surface of snow. It was not uncommon for us to direct our steps 
toward what we took to be a large mass of stone at the distance of half a mile from us, but 
which we were able to take up in our hands after one minute's walk. This was more particu- 
larly the case when ascending the brow of the hill." The traveller in Switzerland finds it 
impossible to believe that the mountains are so high or so distant as he is told they are. He 
cannot trust his judgments in respect to either, because so few of his usual standards are at 
hand. So faulty and confused is his vision at times, that his feelings of awe and his sense of 
the sublime fail to do justice to the grandeur of the scenes. 

Let any person closely observe and attempt to analyze his own processes in vision, and he 
will be surprised to find how small a portion he actually or accurately sees of very familiar 
objects, when they are viewed from a distance ; how little he discerns with the eye, and how 
much he supplies by the mind. We look at a dwelling, and think we can distinguish and 
trace the windows and doors ; we see a person, and are certain that we discern his form, his 
dress, his gait, and his features ; but if we look more closely, we find that we see with far less 
accuracy, and see fewer separate parts or objects, than we had thought, and that we supply 
many elements that are wholly wanting, and complete many that are very defective to the 
bodily eye. 

§ 141. By means of sight we acquire perceptions appropriate 
form, etc., by to the touch. When we look at a sphere, we see by the eye 

only a circular disc, on which the transitions of color, or of 
light and shade, pass so finely into one another, that we know, if we 
grasp it with our hands, we shall feel it to be spherical in form. A 
sphere may be so skilfully painted in fresco on a flat surface, that we actu- 
ally take it to be a sphere in fact. We often seem to see projecting stat- 
ues, graduated mouldings, depressed panels, receding corridors, vaulted 
domes ; and yet, as we approach, we find only a plane surface. 

When the blind from birth are restored to sight, they come into a new world, of the 
percepts of which, and their relations to the percepts already familiar to their touch, they have 
had no previous knowledge. They must therefore go through a special discipline in order to 
connect the well-known objects of touch with the newly-acquired experiences of the eye. 
Thus the blind boy whose sight was restored by Cheselden could not call the cat and dog by 
their right names, or could not tell which was the cat and which was the dog. He could dis- 
tinguish them, indeed, even by the eye, but he had not learned to connect the dog and cat as 



164 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §141. 

handled — to the appropriate forms of which he had attached the names — with the dog and cat 
which he saw, so as to be able to feel them by means of his eyes. Finding himself, one day, 
at fault, he carefully felt of the cat with his hands, his eyes being shut, and set her down, 
exclaiming, " So, puss, I shall know you another time." The question has been often asked 
(cf. Locke, Essay, B. ii. c. ix. § 8), whether a blind man, on being restored to sight, would 
know a cube from a sphere. It is obvious that, so far as mere vision is concerned, he could 
not but distinguish the two objects so soon as he attended to them with the eye. What he 
would need to acquire would be the capacity readily to connect the visible, with the tangible 
cube and sphere. 

A very well educated blind man, who had reflected on his own intellectual processes, and 
had read somewhat in psychology, once observed to the writer, ' I can imitate form by form, 
I can cut out and shape a dog in wood after a model which I can handle, but how it can be 
possible to represent form and relief upon a flat surface, as in painting and drawing, I cannot 
conceive. It is to me an inexplicable mystery.' 

The process by which the blind just restored to sight connect the eye with the voice, is beautifully 
conceived in King Rene's daughter (New York, 1867), where Iolanthe recognizes her father, Bene, and 
her lover, Tristan. 

Ebn Jahia Qier physician) : Arise, arise, my child, and look around. 

Iolanthe (the patient) : Say, what are these, that bear such noble forms ? 

Ebn Jahia : Thou know'st them all. 

Iolanthe : Ah, no ; I can know nothing. 

Bene {approaching Iolanthe): Look on me, Iolanthe— me, thy father ! 

Iolanthe (embracing him) : My father ! Oh, my God ! Thou art my father I 
I know thee now— thy voice, thy clasping hand. 
Stay here ! Be my protector— be my guide ! 
I am so strange here, in this world of light. 
They've taken all that I possessed away — 
All that in old time was tby daughter's joy. 

Bene : I have cull'd out a guide for thee, my child. 

Iolanthe : Whom mean'st thou? 

Bene (pointing to Tristan) : See, he stands expecting tbee. 

Iolanthe : The stranger yonder ? Is he one of those 

Bright cherubim thou once didst tell me of? 
Is he the angel of the light come down ? 

Rene : Thou knowest him— hast spoken witb him. Think ! 

Iolanthe : With him ? with him ? (holds her hands before the eyes) 

Bather, I understand. 
In yonder glorious form must surely dwell 
The voice that late I heard— gentle, yet strong ; 
The one sole voice that lives in Nature's round. 

(To Tristan) Oh, but one word of what thou saidst before ! 

Tristan : Oh, sweet and gracious lady ! 

Iolanthe : List ' on » list ! 

"With these dear words the light's benignant rays 
Bound out a way to me, and these sweet words 
With my heart's warmth are intimately blent. 

Bor an interesting memoir concerning James Mitchel, a youth who was both deaf and blind, see 
Dugald Stewart, Elements, vol. iii. app. For accounts of Laura Bridgman, a blind deaf-mute, see Annual 
Reports of the Mass. Institution for the Blind, by S. G. Howe. Also a memoir in Smithsonian Contri- 
tions, vol. ii., by F. Lieber. Bor accounts of Julia Brace, also a blind deaf-mute, see Reports of the Ameri- 
can Asylum, Hartford, Conn. 



§142. THE ACQUIRED SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 165 

Form distance § 142 * *"• tne examples which have been cited, we translate 
and magnitude : the perceptions given by sight into those which are derived 

now far learned i j. o ./ o 

from touch. from touch. The proposition is sometimes broadly and posi 

tively laid down, that from the touch is derived all perception whatever 
of form, distance, and magnitude ; inasmuch as in all cases, in the last 
analysis and as a final resort, we must come back to the touch as furnish- 
ing the ultimate standard. The position is sometimes stated thus : All 
visible extension must be reduced to that which is tangible. These propo- 
sitions need to be somewhat qualified, if we hold that by the sight we 
perceive superficial extension. They are true to the letter of all those 
perceptions which involve the relation of depth, or the third dimension of 
space ; but to all judgments of superficial form and dimensions they can- 
not literally apply. To the blind, however, it is true that touch furnishes 
the only possible standard of definite form, distance, and size. 

The blind man applies his finger, his hand, or his arm, to every object which he encoun- 
ters, and measures its size by these as standards. He measures length or distance also by the 
successive steps which he must take to reach objects that are remote. He uses his muscular 
sensations also to modify and complete many perceptions of form. But those who see, per- 
ceive objects extended superficially. Why, then, may they also not apply any of these objects 
as units of measurement, and as standards by which to judge of form and size ? And why, 
when the mind has mastered, through touch, the third dimension of space, may not they, as the 
point of view is changed, be applied to measure this also ? We reply, they may, and would 
do so always, if what is called the apparent magnitude of the standard, and of the objects to 
which it is applied, did not constantly change as these are near or remote. A yard-stick or a 
foot-rule may be so far removed from the eye, as to measure to the eye no more than a foot or 
an inch respectively. Even though the standard is unaltered by position, the object measured 
may, by being itself carried near or far, measure a foot, a yard, or a rod. It is only because 
we are certain that the standard and its objects coincide, that we are satisfied when we bring 
the rule to the surface of the object by the hand. But even then we use the eye, in order to 
be certain that the objects coincide. The hand of the blind, however surprising may be its 
delicacy of touch, can never attain the fineness of the eye in discerning the lines of coinci- 
dence. Give the practised eye an assurance that its distances are correctly taken, and it will 
measure and judge with marvellous accuracy. In very many instances the eye supplies or 
corrects what is defective to the hand, as truly as, in many others, the hand brings the eye to 
itself for the final adjustment of its wavering and uncertain movements. It is a circumstance 
which is worthy attention, and certainly ought not in this connection to be overlooked, that 
the point of distance from the eye at which vision, with most men, is most satisfactory, coin- 
cides with that at which the hand can most conveniently handle and hold an object. 

The doctrine that in the original perceptions of vision the mind cannot perceive distance, has been 
denied by some able authors, particularly by Samuel Bailey, in his Review of Berkeley's Theory of Vision, 
London, 1842 ; and by Thomas K. Abbot, M.A. Trin. Coll. Dublin, in " Sight and Touch, an attempt to 
disprove the received or (Berkeleiari) Theory of Vision." London, 1864. Both these writers urge their most 
plausible objections against the doctrine as Berkeley held it, some features of which have been abandoned 
by its recent defenders. Berkeley insisted (Theory of Vision Vindicated and Explained, MacMillan & Co., 
1860) that we have do knowledge of extension in any of its dimensions by vision ; that vision gives coloi 
only, and that there is no necessary connection between visible and tangible extension. All of these posi- 
tions have been abandoned by most who adhere to his doctrine that the third dimension of extension is 
not the object of vision proper, but is inferred by its appropriate signs. Against this doctrine Abbot con- 
tends that sight and not touch " is the sense properly perceptive of distance or trinal extension." Abbot, 
however, does not himself hold, that the perception of the dis:ance of an object is immediate, but that it u 



166 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 143 

effected by means of the varying sensations which attend the adjustments of the eye. Distance in general, 
or space being given, i. ©., -without or beyond the eye, the mind, in Ms view, judges of the respective distances 
»f visible objects by the delicate sensations which the eye experiences in adjusting its axes or its lenses- 
one or both— to the positions requisite for distinct vision. This is to make the original perceptions of dis- 
tance to be judgments or inferences by signs, the signs being furnished by the eye itself. This in principle 
is coincident with one feature of Berkeley's theory, the difference being, that Abbot asserts that it is from 
the eye and not from touch, that these signs are originally furnished. 

The only question now in dispute may be said to be this, Is the perception of distance by the eye 
original or acquired? is it the result of instinctive discernment or of rational judgment ? It is not whether 
he assumption of space or trinal extension is required as the condition of externality to both mind and 
body, for this must be provided in some way or other, but it is whether the eye as eye, can see directly 
relative, i. e., concrete, extension in the third dimension? Upon this question Abbot takes both sides. In 
his analysis of the process of vision he denies. But, in the argument which he founds upon the observation 
of infants and the young of animals as well as of the cases of the blind restored to sight, he affirms. 

. , § 143. It is by the acquired perceptions that we definitely 

Acquired sense- u . . • ' . 

perceptions of assiern the places of our sensations to the different parts of 

our own body. -i •*".■* 

the body. 
All the sense-perceptions must be known to have some place in the 
sensorium (§ 114), though the limits of the place may not be definitely 
drawn, and the relative position of each perception may not be exactly 
fixed. We cannot believe, as we have already argued, that the sensations 
of sight, of hearing, of pain in the breast or in the teeth, could all be expe- 
rienced together without being known to pertain to the extended senso- 
rium, and, in some sense, to different parts of the same. Whatever is 
involved in such a perception, taken singly, is an original perception. 
Whatever is added or superinduced by combining several perceptions, is 
acquired by experience. For example : an adult person has a pain in one 
of his teeth, he does not know which — or a cut in a part of his arm, he 
does not know exactly where. If he touches the tooth with his tongue, 
or if he discovers in a mirror, which one is defective, he ascertains which is 
the one affected ; he learns, as we say, where the pain is. In a similar way, 
by the eye, we fix the place of the cut in the arm. By processes similar 
to this, that is, by processes of combining subjective sensations — i. e., 
muscular and organic, with those of sight and touch as employed on the 
surface of the body — we learn to connect the one with the other, till we 
reach all the definiteness that is possible to be attained. 

That much of this knowledge is acquired, is evident from some cases of lesion in different 
parts of the body, and of the loss of a limb by amputation. A man who has no foot, will feel 
pain in the foot. Why? Because he experiences precisely the same sensations which he 
suffered when he had the foot, and knew it was the seat of the pain. But if he had never had 
a foot, he would never have assigned pain to it ; for he would never have had the means, by 
eye or hand or muscular sensations, of connecting these sensations with it. Some perceptions 
are far more definite than others. All those connected with the eye and the ear are con- 
fidently ascribed to their several organs ; the subjective and vital perceptions it is often very 
difficult exactly to locate. 

Acquired perccp- ^ r * s a * so ^y * ne acquired perceptions that we learn to regu- 
S^i^Sif late and control the movements of the body. Man was 

manage and con- J 

troi the body. made to move. The first and most elementary activities of 



§144. T11E ACQUIRED SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 16^ 

his complex nature are manifested by bodily movements. When the soul, 
so to speak, finds the body, it finds it in motion. Not only is this true, 
but the body is, by its very structure, adapted to certain specific motions, 
as of walking, speaking, and singing, all having a precise and definite rela 
tion to either its present or its future wants or enjoyments. These bodily 
capacities the soul acquires the power to use in definite ways for specific 
ends. The motions to which nature prompts, the intellect learns to con- 
trol and regulate, so as to bring to pass special and determinate results. 
This is done by acquiring the capacity to combine and connect various 
perceptions with certain efforts to move the body, which efforts are 
brought within its reach by the soul's own perceptions. This is a general 
statement of the facts and principles which relate to this subject. A 
more particular consideration of them requires the distinct consideration 
of two separate questions : What does nature provide or furnish ? and 
how does the intellect apply these provisions or furnishings of Nature ? 

We ask, first : What does nature provide f 
what does Na- 8 144. We have already adverted to the fact (8 108), that 

ture provide in ° . . _ . , . , -,. • ' • ' , 

the construction with the sentient nerves, which conditionate sensation, there 
the body! are provided the reflex motor, which impel to motion. In 

obedience to the stimulus furnished by the one, there is awakened in the 
other an unbidden and often an uncontrollable tendency to motion. Con- 
sciousness need, and often does not, intervene. The motion will occur 
without her bidding, and often without her knowledge. Thus, we wink 
in response to the stimulus of light. Thus, the flesh quivers, and with 
draws itself from the knife ; the muscles knit themselves into convulsions 
and cramps. Under the same law, the excitements being diverse, the 
heart beats, the lungs expand, and other involuntary motions are per- 
formed. These functions and operations relate to the body, and their 
effects terminate in its well-being. 

Arran ments There are other movements that are as truly involuntary and 
f?/ bodn pU ex- connatural, which the intellect has the power to apprehend 
pression. an( j the will to control. Such are the muscular efforts that 

are involved in speaking, singing, and walking, or in feats of skill or dex- 
terity. Many of these relate to the soul as well as to the body, in the 
way of use or enjoyment. Some of them are made ready for the spirit 
against the time when it shall be sufficiently developed to apply them with 
intelligence and design. To all these movements the stimulant comes not 
from without, but from within ; not from the surface of the body, 
through the sentient inwardly, and back again along the reflex motor 
without, but by the direct action of some exciting force from within. 
When the infant weeps from pain, and laughs and shouts from delight, it is 
under the excitement proceeding directly from the soul, that the muscles 
are moved to laughter and to tears. In the same way, every emotion 
seeks and finds expression by attitudes, looks, and gestures. Let but the 



168 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 145 

soul feel wonder or surprise, and the face puts on a peculiar look, the 
frame adjusts itself to a given attitude, and the limbs are incited to appro- 
priate gestures — i. e., the muscles obey nervous incitements from within, 
which produce these outward effects in the body. 

In the same way is man prompted to speech : first to inarticulate cries expressing emotion 
only, and then to articulate language and words significant of definite thought. Nature pro- 
vides for all this, by making man capable of a limited range of vocal sounds, through the 
action of those muscles that move the larynx ; and nature prompts to the use of these 
muscles in various ways, according to the varying excitements of feeling and thought. To 
very many, if not to all of these effects, the consentient action of many muscles is required. 
For this, Nature provides by so arranging the structure of the nerves through which these 
consentient muscles are excited, that, under the stimulus of feeling or thought, those needed, 
and those alone, shall be aroused to the united activities which conspire to the single effect. 

Arrangements ^°^ om V ^ oes na *ure provide for the conspiring action of 
actMtyofSffer- severa ^ muscles to one effect, but she even arranges for and 
ent parts. prompts to the combined action of different parts of the 

body, in obedience to a single impulse. In order to progress by walking, 
each leg must alternately advance before and wait for the other. To this 
alternate motion there is an original impulse. It is a movement which the 
infant makes long before it begins to walk. The arms, on the other hand, 
tend to move together. So do the fingers. It is difficult, and sometime? 
Impossible, by any effort to bring certain of the fingers to a separate action. 
But it is in the eyes that this tendency to joint action is most conspicuous. 
The eyes will persistently move in the same direction together. They 
cannot be forced to act apart. One eye cannot by any violence be made 
to look upward while the other is directed downward. One will not tend 
to the right, and the other to the left. 

Even more than this is true. There seems to be, so to speak, a natural aptitude for the 
joint action of organs that are not paired together, but which yet are fitted to aid each other 
in important uses. This is preeminently true of the eye and the hand. The eye must lead the 
hand, and the hand follow the eye, in a multitude of actions. When we would touch or grasp 
a small object at the first trial, the eye must guide. When we would strike it with a stick 
which, we hold, or with a projectile, the eye must conspire with a fixed and earnest gaze. 
There must be some physical reason for this concurrent action of nerves and muscles connect- 
ed witk two organs, though it has not yet been discovered. 

We ask, second : How does the intellect apply icJiat nature pi'ovides? 
„ ■ • ■,. ■'. 8 145. The intellect finds itself furnished with this corporeal 

IIo-w does them- o ^ r 

teiject avail itself instrument, and actually using it under the promptings of 
ments ! nature ; it finds itself laughing, weeping, speaking, and 

walking, under the promptings of nature, and it acquires the power of 
directiDg these activities in particular methods and to certain definite 
results, and of doing this so readily, that it does not notice its own pro- 
cesses, or advert to the elements of which these processes consist. First, 
it observes the muscular sensations which are employed when certaic 



§145. THE ACQUIEED SENSE-PERCEPTIOXS. 169 

effects occur, and the effects it observes by the appropriate sense-percep- 
tion. It experiments upon them, and notices how the sensations which 
are connected with the varying use of its muscles are connected with a 
varying effect. Then it tentatively and designedly repeats the effect which 
it has chanced to produce, or it seeks to imitate the effect which anothe. 
has accomplished ; e. g., to utter a sound, to refrain from laughter or from 
weeping, to walk slowly or rapidly, or with a particular gait. By the 
repetition of the effort, the effect is produced without attention to the 
means, till at last the effect seems to occur without the use of these 
means at all. When the mind would accomplish an object, as utter a 
sound, hold a book, or let it fall, walk, run, or leap, it thinks only of the 
effect, and wills it, and it is done. 

When we speak of the necessity that certain muscles should conspire to produce a par- 
ticular result, and say that the required action is known to the mind by means of muscular 
sensations, it is not to be inferred that there is a special sensation appropriate to each separate 
muscle, and, of course, a special complex of sensations, corresponding to the particular sel 
of muscles which are combined to the given result. That these sensations proceed from the 
muscles, is least of all known or noticed, inasmuch as the spirit has no direct cognizance of itn 
muscles, and does not know how many it uses, or that it uses any, till the anatomist uncovers 
them by dissection. The sensation which indicates and guides to a designed effect may bo 
simple or complex ; it is sufficient that to each effect a definite sensation is assigned. 

By means of such sensations the mind learns to produce these 
How we learn to effects with readiness and precision. In learning the un- 
familiar sounds or combinations of a foreign language, we 
try one experiment after another, till at last we succeed. When the ear is 
satisfied that the result is reached, we repeat the muscular effort required, 
guided by the muscular sensations, till our command over the organs is 
complete, and we can produce at will the sounds which we seek for. The 
infant pursues the same method in learning to talk. It is awakened from 
its purposeless lispings by the desire to produce a sound, as to pronounce 
a word, or brief sentence. At first it succeeds imperfectly, but well 
enough to guide its efforts in the direction toward complete success. It 
triumphs at last, and it attentively observes the sensation which is con- 
nected with the word which it has learned to speak. By producing these 
sensations, it can repeat the word or sentence a second time. 

The deaf-mute cannot learn to speak, not because he is mute by reason of any defect in 
the organs of speech, but because he is deaf, and cannot guide them. He has the vocal appa- 
ratus in complete perfection. He can make all the varieties of vocal utterances which are 
required in speech. But not having the ear by which to direct his efforts, he can neither 
form his own efforts to definite results, nor can he keep the acquisitions which he has made. 
In a few casps, the deaf and dumb have been taught to articulate by a discipline specially 
directed to the management of the vocal apparatus ; but the articulation is imperfect, and 
easily lost. A few striking cases are reported of persons who had lost their hearing in early 
childhood, and have yet retained the power of conversation, by reading the words of others on 
their lips, and uttering their own by the guidance of their remembered muscular sensations 



170 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §145. 

But :he articulation usually becomes degenerate and disagreeable, for lack of the correcting 
and refining guidance of the ear. 

The infant learns to walk as it learns to talk. It notices the 
How we leam to sensations which attend those adjustments of the muscles 

which are necessary to quick or slow progress, to rising or 
sitting, to running or leaping. In all these effects we are usually guided 
by the eye. But sometimes we have not the eye to guide us. We ascend 
a flight of stairs to which we are accustomed, by a vague remembrance of 
the height and width of the steps. The blind depend on the guidance of 
others, both in their first essays and in many of the subsequent uses which 
they make of their limbs. 

Occasionally it happens that a man is forced to learn to walk a second time. TJpham 
{Elements, § 110) tells the story of a person whose spine was crushed under the wheels of a 
heavy vehicle, so as to disable him from the use of his legs for a long time. On his partial 
recovery, he found that, though his muscles were so far uninjured that they would move his 
limbs, yet he did not know how to regulate them. He could contract and expand his muscles 
in every possible motion, but he did not know which would advance, and which withdraw his 
limbs. The muscular sensations on which he had formerly relied were either no longer expe- 
rienced, or they did not indicate the same motions as formerly. He was therefore forced, a 
second time, to go through the process of learning to connect new muscular sensations with the 
movements required. 

By similar processes dexterity is acquired in those uses of 

Feats of dexter- ,,.,.,., . , . „ n -, 

ity. Expres- the limbs which are required in teats of dexterity, as in 

sional effects. v . T ■ • #• i i .,. •-,• t. « 

sleight oi hand, or in playmg on a musical instrument. By 
effort and repetition, new acquisitions may be gained which are more sur- 
prising than those movements for which nature provides an original ten- 
dency. It is to be observed, however, that whatever movements nature 
fails to provide for, she gracefully accepts as a second or additional en- 
dowment. The effort to constrain the organs or limbs to an unnatural 
position or adjustment, may at first be painful, and it may cost constant 
and severe application. But if it is persevered in, and especially if the 
intervals in which it is remitted are short, these new adjustments of the 
muscles are secured, and they even shape themselves to new forms under 
the nervous stimulus that is directed to them. Muscles and nerves that 
had never acted together before, conform to new harmonies. While the 
mind is renewing its efforts at brief intervals for a succession of months 
or years, the substance of the body, in obedience to the laws of life, is 
continually changing ; and as it changes in material, it is also changed in 
form, under the moulding pressure of psychical tension. 

In infancy and early childhood the merely physical capacity of receiving directions and 
impressions from within is incomparably more ready and quick than in later years. In early 
life, every single distinct effort in the use of any bodily organ seems to initiate a definite physi- 
cal predisposition toward a permanent physical effect, either in the force or direction of the 
nervous stimulus, or in a new combination of muscles, or the fixing some form or attitude. A 
few repetitions, a brief perseverance, and the body is permanently moulded or fixed to tin* 



§146. THE ACQUIRED SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 171 

special service of the soul, in some new aptitude or habit. Hence it is that the bodily habits 
acquired in eirly life are so readily contracted and so inveterately retained. But whethe? 
the law acts with greater or less efficiency at an early or later period, the principle is the same 
Certain muscles of the hand act together under some casual or intended impulse, and a 
character is given to the handwriting. Certain other combinations give a distinct individuality 
to the gait, the pose of the head, and the bearing of the man. New powers of expression &n> 
gained by the vocal organs for the purposes of elocution and music. Peculiar habits of speak- 
ing and of singing are assumed. The face becomes capable of expressing an additional num- 
ber and variety of shades and moods of feeling. The exercise of severe and concentrated 
thought forms the features to a peculiar expression. Care and suffering write lines upon the 
brow. Noble and generous emotions, cherished and manifested, fix a spiritual impress upon tht 
face. The indulgence of sensual and vicious passions form the muscles to a debased and ani- 
malized expression. Thus the body becomes spiritualized by the soul, which employs it in 
noble uses, or becomes literally imbruted by being degraded to the service of cunning, of 
indolence, and of shame. 

These many and various examples of the acquired percep- 
summary and tions have been adduced from all the senses in order to prove 

inferences. m * 

conclusively that we use these perceptions constantly, with- 
out reflection, and usually without being aware that the process is mediate 
and indirect. They show, moreover, that the fact that the process is per- 
formed unconsciously does not prove in the least that the intellect does 
not perform a process. The ease, rapidity, and apparent directness of the 
movements of the mind are no valid proofs against the position that the 
mind, in all these cases, uses one perception as a sign of another. Nor do 
they hold at all, when urged against the more obscure and unremembered 
processes by which the infant makes its subtle acquisitions, forming those 
deft and dexterous habits which give it more than half its individuality, 
and weaving those associations which become more than a second nature. 

§ 146. What are called the errors of the se?ises lie wholly 

The errors of ° . . . . • u . J 

the senses ex- within the sphere oi the acquired perceptions. A person 
needs only to fall into a few of these mistakes to be con- 
vinced that they are mistakes of judgment only, and that, whether he 
errs or judges correctly, the process is a process of judgment or induction. 
When a man sees, as he says, a bent stick in the water, he judges that it 
is bent by what he sees ; or, in other words, he judges by what he sees, 
that, if the stick is handled or otherwise tested by the sense of touch, it 
will be found to be crooked. And yet he seems to perceive by the eye 
that it is bent. 1 So, when he looks into a kaleidoscope, and sees scores of 
brilliant objects arranged in symmetrical groups, he perceives them all by 
the eye, and can count their number, and does not doubt that he can grasp 
them all by the hand. It is common in such cases for a person to say that 
his senses deceive him. But the senses are not treacherous ; they cannot 
deceive. It is the man who is deceived in the judgments which he pro- 
nounces, on the evidence which the senses furnish. He is simply hasty 
and premature in judging by the eye. He rashly connects, with what he 
sees by the eye, something which he believes with his mind. The bent 



172 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 146. 

stick is perceived when out of the water just as is a bent stick in the water ; 
in either case a judgment is pronounced — in the one case a judgment 
which is right, in the other a judgment which is wrong. 

The muscular sensations of the fingers are also disturbed. We cross 
the fingers, and at the points of each a single pea is felt as two. The rea- 
son is that the convex surfaces, which as they are usually touched are inter- 
preted as looking inward forming a single sphere, seem to look outward, 
and by the imagination are interpreted as requiring two, to complete them. 

We commit similar errors in all our acquired perceptions. We judge wrongly of the 
origin, the place, and the distance of smells and sounds, when the ordinary criteria are not 
present, or some extraordinary circumstance is not noticed. So we make many hasty infer- 
ences in respect to the size, distance, and form of visible objects, either from the careless use 
of the senses themselves, which leads us to overlook some peculiarity of the object directly 
perceived, or from the limitations of our previous experience, which have failed to make us 
acquainted with some novel element, as the water which refracts the light, or the kaleidoscope 
which reflects and multiplies it into bright and symmetrical forms. 

This class of the so-called errors and deceptions of the senses 

How distill- .,,.. -Tin i !•!• 

guished from ousjht to be sharply distinguished from another, which is 

another class. 

caused by the physical conditions of the sensations them- 
selves. Some men, for example, are color-blind — i. e., they see all objects 
in one uniform, dingy hue, instead of under the bright and diversified 
colors which are granted to the majority of men. Some men, through a 
disease of the stomach or liver, see every object tinged with yellow. It 
occasionally happens that a man is afflicted with double vision — seeing 
two objects in cases where other men see but one. Others see spectra, or 
visible images, having no tangible reality, and no reality at all except to 
the individual who beholds them. Others hear sounds, as of ringing in 
the ears, when there is no sonorous body, and no vibration of the atmo- 
sphere. All cases of this kind are not deceptions of the senses, for the 
objects perceived are the natural and legitimate product of the physical 
conditions that are present ; these conditions being the physical excitants 
or stimuli and the sensorium excited, whether healthy or unhealthy, 
whether normal or abnormal. 

Phenomena of this sort reveal the true nature of the sensational element in the original 
perceptions. As the so-called errors in the acquired perceptions call our attention to the real 
nature of these perceptions, proving them in all cases to be judgments by signs or evidence, 
eo do these abnormal or irregular phenomena of the direct or original perceptions establish 
the fact beyond question, that the sensational element is a joint product of the physical agent, 
the so-called object, and the sensorium, or animated organism ; that there is no sound without 
an ear, no sight without the eye, no touch without the hand, and that what is heard, seen, and 
touched, depends on the eye, the ear, and the hand, as truly as upon the object. If we revert 
to our original definition of knowledge as the apprehension of objects by their relations, we 
should say that the object-matter, the sensational element in the original sense-perceptions, 
may change according as its conditions are altered, but that the relations discerned by the per- 
ceptional act are always the same, the act itself being inconceivable and impossible without 



§ 148. THE ACQUIRED SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 173 

thein. So far as the speculative question of the veracity and trustworthiness of our powei 
of knowledge is concerned, and the speculativo-practical question of the grounds of our con 
fidence in the testimony of the senses, both these are to be settled by the general principles 
which are fundamental to all the inductive processes. These principles will be considered in 
their appropriate place. 

The acquired § 14 ^* ^ ne acquired, perceptions differ from the original as 
act r s Ce of i0 know^ kinds or forms of knowledge. Acts of original perception 
ed s e - are acts of direct or immediate knowledge. In such acts 

the objects are present to the intellect, and the intellect knows directly 
that they are, and that they hold their appropriate relations. Acts of ac- 
quired perception are acts of mediate knowledge. In such acts it is by 
the medium or through the aid of another act of original perception, that 
the object is reached which is perceived by the act in question. Thus, 
when I know the occasion of an odor, the size or distance of an object 
seen, etc., etc., I use a direct or immediate perception as the medium 
through which I reach what I believe or know. 

Again : an act of acquired perception requires for its fulfilment the 
representative power, in the form of fancy or memory. When the mind, 
on occasion of a direct perception, supplies that which it does not directly 
feel, or see, or measure, it must bring its object forth from what it has 
formerly experienced, either in the precise form of a previous perception, 
or of one that is similar or analogous. But the original perception appre- 
hends its object directly. 

Again : if the act of acquired perception rests upon the representing 
power or agency, it must involve the action of the associative power. At 
the experience of one odor, we think of a lily; at the experience of an- 
other, of the tuberose. At the sight of a distant moving object, no larger 
than a speck, we think of a man or a horse. What brings the form of a 
rose or a tuberose, the picture of a man or a horse, before my mind's eye 
on the occasion of these direct perceptions ? We must anticipate our 
knowledge of the laws which govern the representative power, in order to 
answer — The laws of association (§ 238). 

§ 148. Every act of acquired perception is an act of induc- 
ductTon™ 1 ™ in " t * on * ^ e mui( ^ does more than represent some picture or 
remembrance out of the stores of its past experience ; it 
believes there is a real object corresponding to this picture. In so doing, 
it performs a process of induction. It judges, by the signs or indications 
which the original perceptions furnish, that there are existing objects 
which the other senses would find to exist should they make the trial. 
The process by which this belief is attained is variously named inference, 
induction, judgment, interpretation, etc. It is peculiar in this, that it 
knows by media or signs, and that it assumes that these signs always indi- 
cate the same accompaniments, and that the laws and operations of Nature 
are uniform in respect to the connections which are indicated (§ 468). 



1H THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §148. 

It may surprise many to learn that the processes employed in the acquired perceptions are 
processes of induction. Induction is usually conceived and described as a process which is 
appropriated to philosophical discovery, which requires wide generalization and profound 
reflection, and issues only in comprehensive principles and laws. A little reflection will satisfy 
any one, however, that the act of mind is the same with that performed in every one of the 
acquired perceptions. The difference between the two kinds of induction is not in the process, 
but in the materials upon and with which the mind performs them. But the acts, the funda- 
mental assumptions, and the liability to error in both, are essentially the same. 

But it cannot be possible, it will be urged, that the perceptions which the 
Reasons why m- } n f an t so rapidly acquires, and which the most ignorant and unreflecting so 
these inductions, skilfully apply, are in their nature similar to those profound and daring acts 

by which the astronomer scales the heavens, and the naturalist penetrates and 
resolves the mysteries of the universe. The difficulties and objections which are expressed in 
this language can be most effectually set aside, if we notice the differences in the circumstances 
and conditions of the acts performed by the infant and the philosopher. 

1. We notice that the infant employs its perceptions upon a very limited number of 
objects. The sensations which its own body gives are not very numerous, whether they be 
muscular or external. Certainly those to which the attention is at first directed are but few, 
and these are vaguely and rudely perceived, and as vaguely recalled. It is not till the 
attention is disciplined and matured, and only just as fast as this happens, that it finds in the 
body within and the world without an infinitude of distinguishable objects, ever presenting 
themselves to be noticed as fast as the attentive mind is applied to observe them. 

2. The few objects which the infant mind distinguishes are constantly recurring to view. 
The perceptions of the body within, and of the sense-world without, just as fast as they are 
perceived and mastered, and become distinct objects, return constantly to the view. Almost 
every hour brings back to the infant the whole world of its known objects — the whole of the 
universe, so far as explored by itself. All the acts which it has occasion to perform, involving 
special subjective or muscular sensations, will return again and again, perhaps a thousand times 
a day, filling up the whole horizon of its active exertions, ever recurring till some acquisition 
is made or some feat is successfully performed. 

8. All the objects and parts of objects with which the infant has to do — in other words, 
all its sense-perceptions — have an immediate relation to its appetites and desires. To say 
nothing of the inextinguishable and unsated curiosity which stimulates the attention, and puts 
the soul upon every experiment which it is capable of performing, most of the objects which 
the infant observes are those which appeal directly to some present gratification. The child 
desires to walk, to reach, to stand, and its whole soul is absorbed in the effort to perform these 
feats. So, too, when it sees an object, that, as a visible percept, attracts the eye ; if it handles 
it as well, and grasps or tries to hold it, the satisfaction to the eye is coupled with the gratifica- 
tion to the hand, and every muscular movement that disappoints or gives success is likely to 
be noticed by reason of its near relation to its wants and longings. In one word, the infant 
acquires the most of its secondary perceptions as a means to some pressing desire or urgent 
necessity, which is fitted to arouse and fix the attention. 

4. When any experiment has been successfully made in the way of connecting the known 
and the untried, the gratification at success will stimulate to repetition : and this again holds 
the attention to every element and step in the process, till the whole is fixed in the memory. 
The infant repeats all its lessons as fast as it learns them, because it rejoices over its acqui- 
sitions. 

5. The associating power unites what observation notices. So few are the combinations 
which it has made as yet, and so closely were they connected by the original act which first 
bound them together, that the one cannot be perceived or thought of without its companion. 
N5t only, then, are the objects with which the infant has to do, few in the comparison, and 
therefore constantly before the mind, but the associations by which they are connected will 



g 148. THE ACQUIRED SENSE-PEECEPTIONS. 175 

tend constantly to reproduce themselves. If, for example, an infant has observed that what ia 
a shaded disc to the eye, is a spherical surface to the hand, the shaded disc will always remind 
it of the spherical surface. It cannot see the one without thinking of the other. 

6. The resemblances which the infant apprehends are few, and discerned with little effort. 
It might better be said that similar objects are at first recognized as the same, rather than dis« 
cerned as similar. Hence the inductions of the infant ere at first simple acts of spontaneous 
memory, rather than beliefs founded on similar instances. The infant, in observing objects that 
jvrc alike, whether within or without its own body, seems quite as much to be repeating its own 
past experience, as performing acts and viewing objects that are like those with which it haa 
before been occupied. 

In induction proper, the similarities are remote — not obvious, not directly discerned, but 
indirectly surmised ; the data themselves are the results of previous research and reflection, 
instead of being forced upon the attention. 

*J. The infant cares for the result, and, in its eagerness to reach it, slights or disregards the 
means. What it finds to be true, occupies its attention, and not the evidence or data by 
which it finds it. Tor example : if it judges that an object is spherical, all its attention and 
interest are expended upon the question, What is the shape ? and none at all upon whether 
it is by the shaded disc, or some other medium, that its shape is ascertained. So, too, 
if the question comes up, What is that which I see — is it a man or a child, a house or a barn, 
a long stretch of road or an upright triangular plane? or, How far off? how large? etc., 
etc. — the mind is wholly intent upon the answers, and does not dwell at all upon the grounds 
on which it judges, as to what it is, or how large, or how far distant. It takes, and acts upon 
the result, without a thought of the process by which it was reached. 

This habit is furthered by the entire inaptitude of the infant to reflect on its own subjec- 
tive processes, and to analyze them into their elements. The infant is, as we say, unconscious 
of what it does ; it does not reflect on the steps by which it proceeds t<5 a conclusion ; that 
of which it is the least aware is the ground of its belief or knowledge. It judges and rea- 
sons on appropriate evidence, and with sufficient grounds, but often it is aware only that it 
is certain that something is true, and not at all conscious of the grounds on which it became 
certain. It exercises its powers without reflecting upon them, or knowing that it performs 
a process at all. 

8. The freshness and energy of the activity of the human soul in the earliest periods of 
its life continually surprise and astonish us. The activities of the intellect, the freshness of 
interest, the energy of will, the eagerness of the desires, the variety of the experiments upon 
itself, upon nature, and man, are always occasions of interest and surprise to older persons 
whose powers are torpid or overwrought, and whose curiosity is partially sated. 

Whatever objections may be urged against the possibility that acqui- 
sitions like these should be made in infancy and early life, are satisfactorily 
met by the unquestioned fact, that the infant is constantly making experi- 
ments and falling into errors in this very sphere of induction and acquired 
knowledge. It makes awkward attempts to grasp, to reach, to stand, and 
to walk ; it misjudges in respect to the distance, form, and size, and nature 
of objects beyond its reach ; it is taught by experience, and it applies the 
lessons which experience imparts, whether painful or pleasant. It is never 
so busy as in the earliest years of its life. All this while it is chiefly occu- 
pied with experiments upon the material world and its own bodily powers, 
all its energy being employed in the very direction, and being busied wit!) 
the very objects, with which the acquired perceptions are concerned. 



176 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §149. 

It ought also to be remembered that, during the same period, it makes 
the surprising acquisition of language ; always of the mother-tongue, and, 
if circumstances favor, of one or two languages more. To acquire a new 
language so as to speak it well, costs an adult, whose powers are well-dis- 
ciplined, many months, if not years of labor. With how much greater 
ease, rapidity, and perfection, is the same task achieved by the infant! 
Surely it is not so surprising that at an age as early, or even earlier, it 
should master the acquired perceptions. That it does not remember the 
processes through which it has gone, proves nothing concerning the ques- 
tion whether they were in fact gone over. We do not remember one of 
the thousand processes through which we must have passed in learning 
to talk. And yet the thought or the want suggests the word, which 
rushes to the tongue as if by instinct or inspiration ; just as we judge 
of properties, size, and distance, without reflecting that we judge. 

§ 149. It might be urged in objection still further, that there 

Objections from ? . _ ' ■ _ .,. . ' X 

the case of ani- is no evidence that animals acquire any perceptions. On the 
contrary, observation shows decisively that they perceive 
directly the distance, size, and properties of the objects with which they are 
concerned. The chicken, with the young of certain birds, strikes its beak 
with precision and success at the food brought within its reach, even be- 
fore it is released from the shell. The young of the partridge and the 
grouse run swiftly through the stubble, avoiding projecting objects as if 
with practised skill. The young of quadrupeds run and leap with no pre- 
vious discipline or training. In view of these facts, it is confidently urged 
that, if these animals are taught by instinct to perceive correctly, it is not 
to be supposed that man would be left to the slow and uncertain processes 
of feeling his way along to certain belief. Surely Nature would do as 
much for its noblest work, as for the inferior species. See Adam Smith, 
Essays of the External Senses ; Sir William Hamilton, Met. Zee, 28 ; 
J. K. Abbot, Sight and Touch, c. xi. ; S. Bailey, Review of BerJceley^s 
Theory, c. v. sec. 1. 

To this objection is to be opposed the indisputable fact, that the human 
species is trained to feel its way on to matured and trustworthy acqui- 
sitions. The reason why, is obvious. The animal has not the capacity 
to judge by signs, to that extent and with that discrimination which would 
qualify it to build up the power of perception. This deficiency is supple- 
mented by instinct, about which we know but little, but know enough to 
be certain that it effects by blind and unintelligent impulse what reason 
discerns and performs of itself. 

Man is indeed furnished with instincts, so far as he needs them, to impel and direct his 
movements, before his intellect is developed, or with respect to objects of which the intellect 
takes no cognizance. Instinct is a blind, unconscious force ; it is not knowledge. An instinct 
cannot discern color or hear a sound ; much less can it by the eye discern extension, or out. 
ness, or shape, or size. These are discerned by acts of knowledge, and it is for the philoso- 



§149. THE ACQTTIRED SENSE-PERCEPTIONS. 177 

pher to decide how much of this knowledge is gained by direct and intuitive perception, and 
how much by judgment. That question can only be answered by the observation of fact! 
within the range of human experience, and by analogy, when the phenomena are removed 
from direct inspection, or have escaped our memory. 

Some facts are observed in infants which are supposed to be inconsistent with these con- 
clusions, and to prove decisively that the infant, as well as the animal, has some so-called 
' instinctive perception ' of distance. Thus, for example, Adam Smith reasons : "A child that 
is scarcely a month old, stretches out its hands to feel any little plaything that is presented 
toward it." It is more than possible that in infancy the eye cannot be excited by a visible 
object, especially if the object gives pleasure, without a consentient movement of the hands, 
and of both hands and eyes, in the same direction. That some provision should be made for 
such a conspiring movement or impulse to motion of two members of the body that perform 
many functions in common, may be received as probable, and believed to be true. But this 
would not prove that the eye, in the proper sense of the term, discerns distance. All the move- 
ments with both hand and eye show that this is judged or inferred by indications or signs. 

Reasons why the Important reasons suggest themselves, however, why the 

perceptions of . , . . ,, .-■,,,,-. i ' -, 

animals and of animal is taught and impelled by instinct to do at once, and 

man should dif- . . ° *, ■ J .' 

fer. with little exposure to failure, what man can only attam by 

slow and painful acquisition, and at the risk of many failures and suffer- 
ings. The discipline to which man is subjected has respect to his moral 
culture as well as to his intellectual perfection and success. He needs to 
learn patience, caution, foresight, self-distrust, and circumspection, as well 
as the higher virtues. All of these are furthered by the processes through 
which he must pass in gaining the acquired perceptions. It is by the 
adaptation of this discipline to high moral uses, that is explained the law 
of nature by which man is born the most ignorant and helpless of all the 
animals, and forced, as it were, to make his acquisitions by his own 
sagacity, as fast as he is impelled by the appetites, desires, and affections 
which are evoked from his at first undeveloped soul. 

We may conclude, then, that the processes of the acquired perceptions 
are processes of induction, and that they involve the as yet unconsidered 
powers of representation, with association, and judgment by signs or indi- 
cations. In other words, in the very act of perception, usually considered 
as the lowest and the most elementary of all the acts of the intellect, 
there is required the agency of the intuitions and relations which point to,. 
and are involved in the very highest capacities of intelligence. This is a 
striking instance of the principle enounced at the outset, that no faculty 
of the intellect can act apart from the rest. We have found that, in the 
very lowest of all, the rudimentary action of the very highest must be 
present, in order that the act may be human and rational. 
12 



178 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 150. 



CHAPTER VL 



DEVELOPMENT AND GEOWTH OF SENSE-PEKCEPTION. 

We have considered what is essential to sense-perception as an original act of the soul, and 
how it *is that the soul acquires the power and skill to use one perception in place of 
another. The first of these powers is an original endowment ; the second is a developed 
capacity. The examples of the development of this power which we have considered all 
occur under our direct observation. Experience is a decisive witness that the ability to 
make these combinations is acquired by every human being, by processes which we can 
more or less distinctly analyze. The exercise of this power involves all the constituents 
of induction. 

8 150. We propose next to treat of the acquisitions which 

Nature, interest, x i _. 

and difficulty of are made beiore we can observe so as to remember ; %. e., to 
trace the growth and development of the sense-perceptions 
in earliest infancy. We take our guidance from what we have observed 
of those processes which we are certain that we acquire, and, going back 
to that period of which memory brings no report, we ask, From what 
beginnings, in what order, and by what steps does the infant mind develop 
and mature the power of sense-perception of which it finds itself in pos- 
session, when it awakes to distinct and remembered consciousness ? 

The problem is full of interest. It seems like a proposal to revive the 
experience of our earliest years, to restore, as it were, the forgotten past 
of our lives — the period when our curiosity was eager, our energy un- 
abated, our hopes were boundless, and the universe was beckoning to us 
to explore and enjoy its infinitude. There is a mystery about those 
months and years which we would fain unravel, which tempts and tan- 
talizes us because of its apparent darkness and obscurity. The difficulty 
and apparent in super ableness of the problem incite and challenge us to 
make the effort to follow the successive acts by which we ' build up the 
being which we are.' 

The difficulty which attends the effort arises from the fact that it is 
impossible, by memory, to bring back a single fragment of our infant life. 
We cannot penetrate the darkness and obscurity which overhang this 
entire period of our existence. Could we revive but a single isolated por- 
tion, one sole and separate act or state, when our perceptive power was 
yet rudimental, it would give us a clue by which to thread our way back- 
ward through this entangled maze, till we had reached the simple ele- 
ments with which we began ; or, returning upon our steps, we could com 
bine these elements in the order of their actual accretion and growth. 



§151. DEVELOPMENT AND GROWTH OF SENSE-PEECEPTIO N". 1V9 

AVho can tell what a baby thinks ? 

"Who can follow the gossamer links 
By which the manikin feels his way 

Out from the shore of the great unknown, 

Blind, and wailing, and alone, 
Into the light of day? 
♦ ♦ * * ♦ 

What does he think of his mother's eyes ? 
. "What does he think of his mother's hair ? 

"What of the cradle-roof, that flies 

Forward and backward through the air ? 

"What does he think of his mother's breast — 
Bare and beautiful, smooth and white- 
Seeking it ever with fresh delight — 

Cup of his life and couch of his rest ? 

What does he think when her quick embrace 

Presses his hand, and buries his face, 

Deep where the heart-throbs sink and swell, 

With a tenderness she ne'er can tell? etc. 

J. G. Holland.— BiUer-Svjtet. 

The problem per- 8 151. But the problem, though difficult, is not insolvable> 

plexing to the ^ r , . . ,. , , . , . 

imagination, but To the judgment only is it explicable, but not to the imagi- 
tne intellect. nation. We can demonstrate what our infant life must have 
been, but we cannot imagine how this infant life must have seemed. We 
cannot expect to recall to the memory any actual experience of our own, 
when all visible objects were depicted on an extended plane, without dis- 
tance or depth. Nor can we, by imagination, feign such an experience. 
The effort to do either must be fruitless. The new elements which we 
have incorporated with our constant habitudes of perception and knowl- 
edge we can never throw off. We cannot divest ourselves of the new 
growth which has overgrown the original germ. We must not expect, by 
any analysis, to restore the distinct experience of our infant perceptions, 
any more than we can a second time make real and rational the feelings 
of our infancy. No man can imagine himself to be a child, for the sim- 
ple reason that in all things he must think and feel as a man. 

To attempt to retrace and thus to reconstruct the processes of the earli- 
est perceptions of childhood, is not irrational. We have at our command 
the materials with which to prosecute our analysis and to construct our 
synthesis. These are the known facts of experience and observation 
within our conscious experience, the facts observed of infants and very 
young children, and the probable conclusions which analogy warrants us 
in deriving from both. 
- . a The facts which are established by our own observation in 

Data and J 

grounds of infer- respect to the grounds and the processes of the perceptions 
which we know to be acquired, the exposure to constant 
mistakes in these perceptions, and the invalid plausibility of the objections 
which may be urged against these demonstrated facts, are all pertinent, 
and most of them decisive, when applied to the theories which we form 
of infantile development. We are justified in applying to the unknown 
I he explanations which reason forces us to accept in respect to the known-. 



180 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 152, 

All that we observe of the actions of infants and young children is entirely consist- 
ent with the theory, that they develop the power of perception by many experiments and 
many mistakes. Their experiments and errors can only be explained in consistency with this 
view. 

The known methods and laws of nature in the education of men and of animals give the 
strongest confirmation to these conclusions. We rely with confidence upon the view that, s^ 
far as it is possible to account for the acquired perceptions by the theory of intelligent activity 
rather than by that of blind instinct, so far we are bound to go. Where intelligent activity 
cannot be presumed or proved, there instinct and intuition must be assumed. 

Synthesis and combination, however, cannot account for every process or solve every 
problem. There must be original elements with which to begin, or else there would be noth- 
ing with which to combine, or which could be added when it was sought for. There must also 
be capacities or powers of original knowledge, beyond or behind which we cannot go in our 
analysis ; which capacities, indeed, give the elements which we evolve by analysis. Other- 
wise the problem would be — given the power to know nothing by original activity, show how 
every thing can be known by the simple force of combination or substitution, with nothing 
to combine or substitute. 

To this extreme the advocates of the associational psychology are continually driven in 
their efforts to explain by a single law our knowledge and beliefs — our knowledge of time, 
space, of the laws of matter and of spirit, of the very principles of induction, and of all 
necessary truths, even the very powers and passions of the soul. They would generate ' insep- 
arable associations ; ' but from uhat, they do not so satisfactorily show (§ 43). 

The intellect and § 152# These things being premised, we observe: The first 
se°n^e. emotion COI], dition m which the soul may be supposed to exist before 
begins. the beginnings of conscious activity is nearly allied to that 

of sleep undisturbed by dreams, or of extreme faintness, in which the 
most indistinct and feeblest sensations possible are experienced, without 
distinct perception. "In Schlafes Armen wird das Kind zur Welt gebo- 
rm" (A. HelfFerich.) These states approach most nearly to what we 
may suppose to be the elementary condition of the soul, with this differ- 
ence, however, that we carry into the sleep and faintness of adult years 
some dim and disturbing images from our waking consciousness. The 
undeveloped condition of man is not chaotic in the sense of being con- 
fused, disturbed, or bewildered ; it is rather in that vague and low con- 
dition of sense-perception which comes from the activity of those mus- 
cular and vital sensations which belong to the processes of the animal life. 
These sensations, when closely attended to in later knowledge, are at best 
but vaguely and indefinitely conceived ; and when they fill up the whole 
world of our conscious life, they must be obscure indeed. The activities 
to which these sensations excite are the result of the reflex actions of 
the nervous organism, and of those vital and animal instincts which are 
as blind and unintelligent. 

The be ■ nin s From this condition the soul is aroused when it begins to 
nfent o^lfteSl atten d either to its sensational condition, or to the responsive 
tion - perceptional act. The soul scarcely can be said to have sen- 

sations even, till it is conscious of some sharp or positive experience of 



§153. DEVELOPMENT AND GROWTH OF SENSE-PEECEPTION. 18] 

pain or pleasure. Much less can it be said to perceive, till its attention is 
aroused, repeated, and fixed upon some single sensible percept. 

We are not to suppose that the attention, in either of these directions, is developed at & 
single bound, or that its energy is attained by one spasm of effort ; nor that the soul maintains 
itself always in the attent condition which it at first oeasionally attains. All analogies from 
the states of our mature experience would lead us to believe that the soul now rises into a mo- 
ment's fixed attention, and then sinks again to blank inanition. Again, it is roused a second 
time by some earnest and intruding solicitation, attends for an instant, and relapses a second 
time into the merely instinctive life. 

Nor, again, are we to believe that the attention can only be aroused or occupied by a 
single sense at once, or that, consequently, it is by successive energizings of each sense and 
each object taken one by one, that the several powers of sense-perception are distinctly devel- 
oped and matured. On the other hand, it is far more rational to believe that contrast stimu- 
lates attention, and that attention is truly and eminently discrimination, holding the mind to 
one object as necessary to distinguish it from another, and sending it back to the second object 
from which it was distinguished, by reaction from the very effort with which it gave itself to 
the first. 

This view of attention is conformed entirely to the law of its movements within our expe- 
rience, and it makes it much easier to comprehend how the several senses may be developed 
together, and how the objects appropriate to each may readily blend into one. 

8 153. The sense-perceptions which are first developed are 

Muscular and ° , * . - x . , > x 

vital perceptions doubtless tne muscular and vital. If, however, we perceive 

first developed. . ^ « ••■ - i • 

only so far as we attend, it may be doubtful whether we 
ought to call them sense-perceptions till they are connected with those per- 
ceptions which are more positive and objective, as the perceptions of sight 
and touch, by connection with which they render their most important ser- 
vice as perceptions. 

We should expect, for certain reasons, that the three senses 
anTSSeii taste ' °^ nearm &> taste, and smell, would spring into activity next 

in order, as being nearest akin to the first and as requiring 
a less persistent and a less intellectual effort. Observation does not, 
however, confirm these anticipations. The sense of hearing is used, in 
some feeble degree, a few days after birth, scarcely in such a manner or 
degree as to be called attentive or discriminating. The sense of taste is 
still later. At first, the infant swallows medicine as readily as milk. It 
is not till some four weeks have elapsed that it distinguishes the one 
from the other. Later still is exercised the sense of smell. Kussmaul 
says taste and smell are active from the first. Hearing only is feebly 
developed. Hearing remains the longest, as death comes on. 

These facts, furnished by observation, when regarded from another point of view seem 
less surprising. These sense-perceptions of themselves are of little service. They can be 
applied to no use, either of science or curiosity, till they are connected with the objects which 
excite them, and indicate some property or relation. It is consistent with the economy 
of nature that they should not be called into action till the time of their useful activity has 
2ome. Till then, the capacity for their exercise is simply dormant and undeveloped. (Cf. 



182 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §155. 

Loebisch, Die Seele des Kindes in ihren Entwickelungen, 2 Aufl., Wien, 1854 ; also Kussmaul, 
Untersuchungen uber das Seelenleben des neugeborenen Menschen, Leipzig, 1859.) 

8 154. It is with the eye and the hand that the soul begins 

The eye and the " „ .. ■.■ • %, 

land: which nxedly to attend, and, 01 course, effectively to perceive. But 
with which does it first begin — with the eye, or with the 
hand ? It is impossible to answer. Perhaps it were safer and more exact 
to say that it begins with neither alone, but with both — L e., each aids the 
other, till, by the help of both combined, the mind reaches the distinct 
perception of external and spatial objects. 

We begin with the hand, and the sense of touch as the sense of 
which no human being can possibly be deprived. Whatever may be true 
of the eye, we are certain that intelligent perception by touch must be 
acquired very early. 

To the blind, these perceptions must always take the place of the perceptions of sight. 
To the blind, they must give the perceptions of the world of matter as separate from and 
external to the animated body, as also the various relations of extension and space. If it be 
supposed that touch is normally developed before sight begins to be matured, then every 
human being must learn to perceive for a while as though he were blind. He must learn to 
combine the acquired perceptions, as a blind man always does. When sight awakes, it is sim- 
ply to aid and facilitate the process, by giving it greater rapidity and precision. 

We begin, then, with touch. Our problem is, to show how, 
nlehan g d. a with ^y touch, we acquire the perception of extension and of out- 
ness or externality — by which we mean separableness from 
the body ; or the not-body. We have before assumed that, by original 
perception, we do through each of the senses distinguish the body from 
the spirit, and also know the sense-percept itself as spatial. These rela- 
tions being given to touch as an original power, it remains for us to ask 
how we learn by touch to separate the not-body from the body, and how 
we learn the relations of this not-body to space. It is to be remem- 
bered, that what we know by original perception is that non-ego, which is 
distinguished from the sentient ego, or the ego which animates the senso- 
rium. We are now to inquire into the process by which the knowledge 
of the non-ego as the not-body, is attained. 

8 155. First : We acquire the knowledge of the not-bodv by 

Extra- organic ° . , - x «,, 

non-ego; how contrasting the muscular and tactual perceptions. The mus- 

T)GrCGlVG(i 

cular and tactual perceptions we suppose to be familiarly 
known. By means of the distinguished muscular sensations we perceive 
the interior of the body which the spirit inhabits and controls. We 
know its interior parts through the vague but real sensations which are 
experienced in the use of the various muscles and the action of the sev- 
eral vital organs. But as yet we know no exterior world. Even when 
we touch what are afterwards discovered to be material objects, we have 
only the tactual perceptions which ensue on the application of the skin to 
whatever the object may be. When the infant lays its hand on a flat and 



§ 155. DEVELOPMENT AND GROWTH OF SENSE-PEECEPTIOX. 183 

smooth surface, it perceives a portion of its own body in a given state of 
activity. If the surface is triangular, a corresponding portion of the sur- 
face is similarly excited, and so on. As the muscular sensations give ua 
the knowledge of the interior space that the sensorium occupies, so the 
tactual sensations give the knowledge of its bounding or limiting enclo- 
sure. We discover this limit by impinging it in every part upon sur- 
rounding objects, and thus exciting it to sentient activity. In the warm 
surroundings of a bath, or the bed, or a heated apartment, the surface of 
the body is denned by a gentle glow. If the temperature is cool, the 
same surface is made known to the soul by a rough and comfortless chill, 
that creeps over and pinches the sensitive wrapping. 

Combination of Second : The muscular and tactual perceptions being famil« 
Sctuai ar ercT- i ar ty known and sharply distinguished, with the spatial rela- 
tions - tion of the interior of the body which they involve, the 

experimenter begins to combine the two in novel applications. One hand 
is placed on another, or on the arm, or on the face, or any part of the 
body. A new perception is the consequence ; the muscular sensations 
beneath the surface touching and the surface touched are the same as 
before. Each touching surface, taken apart, is affected as before when 
brought in contact with a material object ; but in each touching surface 
there is added the perception of touching and of being touched. 

The sense-perception which is experienced on touching a table is clearly distinguished 
from that which is given when one's arm or hand is touched. This perception is more or less 
vivid and acute as greater or less pressure is applied. By noticing this distinction, the soul 
takes its first lesson in learning to distinguish its own body from that which is not its own 
body. It places its first uncertain step upon the frail and swaying bridge that spans the gulf 
which divides the material universe into two portions — the animated body, and that which is 
beyond. Its own body is known by the positive experience of muscular sensations which it 
gives, limited by tactual sensations at its periphery. Moreover, when it is touched by the 
hand, a special form of tactual sensation is experienced. The absence of these muscular 
sense-perceptions, when touched, distinguish a certain class of objects as diverse from all those 
which have them. This is the distinguishing mark of extra-corporeal objects. It is not, how- 
ever, enough that objects are distinguished as extra-corporeal. They must be also known as 
diverse in space — i. e., they must be known as extended, and thereby involving a space which 
is beyond or without the body. This suggests the third acquisition. 

Objects corporeal and extra-corporeal can be grasped by the 
of the extra-or- hand, and in this way can be known as occupying space. 

ganic ; how ac- .^ . " . . , 

quired. When a blind man grasps his own arm or wrist, he know T s 

certain muscular sensations as extended through and posited in the space 
within the opposite surfaces that he touches. If his wrist is withdrawn 
from the enclosing grasp, and an extra-corporeal object is inserted in its 
place, the adjustments of the grasping hand are the same as before, the 
dim knowledge of the space which these adjustments involve is also the 
same. All is the same, only there is no direct perception by the sensa- 
tions located within the wrist. The stick is felt by tactual perception in 



184 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §155. 

all its directions of surface. So far as any knowledge of surface by con- 
tact is concerned, it is in both cases the same. The wrist is known by 
direct perception as space-filling. The enclosing hand is a measure of the 
space enclosed. The same enclosing or grasping hand measures the sur- 
face of another body, but this body yields no muscular percepts involving 
extension. It occupies, however, precisely the space which the other 
filled. It is known, therefore, as space-filling, and as filling other space 
than that of the body. The mind has made the acquaintance of extra- 
corporeal objects as extended in space, and it has made it on the au- 
thority of touch alone. 

In this way is it possible for the mind, by touch alone, to reach the extra-corporeal world, 
and to know that all its objects, like the body with which it is directly connected, occupy 
space. By the motion of its own limbs, known and judged by muscular sensations, it soon 
learns direction in space. By the comparison of its direct experience of the interior of the 
body as revealed by muscular perceptions, and of the exterior as revealed by the tactual, it 
learns the difference between the outside and inside of its own body, and of any material 
object. By the repeated application of any portion of the surface of the body as a measuring 
unit, it learns size. After it has learned what a single step signifies, by repeating the number 
of steps which must be taken to reach an object that is remote, it learns distance. By study- 
ing closely the other indications which touch reveals, it masters all the variety of knowledge 
of material things which the combinations of touch can reveal. The processes of the blind 
are slowly and painfully performed, but they are shut up to make the most of them by the 
necessities of their condition. 

These processes are all acquired, and that which is acquired in them all is the single 
power to use one percept as the sign of another, or of some relation which is indicated by the 
percept as its invariable attendant — e. <?., outness, extension, direction, distance, size, and the 
like. 

The theory of sense-perception, taught in this volume, coincides with the theories of 
Hamilton's the- John Muller and Sir William Hamilton, so far as they agree, viz., that we have a direct 
ory ot the per- or intuitive perception of the extended organism, and an indirect or acquired perception 
extra-organic. °f extra-organic matter. Muller explains the last process, substantially as we have 

done, though with less detail. Hamilton explains it thus : " The existence of an extra- 
organic world is apprehended * * * in the consciousness that our locomotive energy is resisted, and not 
resisted by aught in our organism itself. For in the consciousness of being thus resisted is involved as a 
correlative, the consciousness of a resisting something." Appendix to Works of Reid, Note D*, 28; cf. 20, 
23, 24, 25, 26 ; cf. 864, Note D. 

This explanation of the process supposes the application of the relation of causation. For it repre- 
sents the locomotive energy as a causative energy which, unresisted, would produce certain effects, which 
effects are overborne or set aside by an agent which is known to be not the ego or the organism with which 
the ego is connected. From the presence of this new and strange effect, the existence of an extra-organic 
agent is inferred. The theory is in principle the same with that of Dr. Thomas Brown, which we have 
already noticed (§ 130), with this difference, that Brown supposes the cause and its activities to be both 
spiritual and non-extended, while Hamilton supposes the locomotive energy to be known directly as 
extended. The validity of the inference supposed to be derived, depends on the perception of a differing 
event in each of the two cases, and on the apprehension of each as an effect requiring a cause for its 
explanation. The first of these will not be denied. The second is not so obvious and certain. To this is 
essential that the locomotive energy as a causal energy should be regarded as capable of an effect, and this 
effect must be known as intra-organic. If the locomotive energy is connected with this effect as its cause, 
it must be by the design to produce this effect, which designed effect is not reached. This would require a 
higher development of the reflective consciousness, than can be supposed at the early period when the 
infant apprehends the extra-organic, or the non-ego. It seems more rational to account for it as we have 
done, by the presence and absence of certain tactual and muscular sense-perceptions. "When the reflective 
consciousness has been developed and the relation of causation is familiarly handled by the mind, thia 
process would confirm and make definite our belief of extra-organic beings and agents. 



§ 156. DEVELOPMENT AND GROWTH OP SEXSE-PEECEPTI02J. 185 

A more serious difficulty is involved in Hamilton's theory — the same, indeed, which in another "way it 
fatal to that of Brown (cf. § 131), viz., it seems not to explain how in the necessity of finding for this effect 
an extra-organic cause, this " correlative" " resisting something" must be shown to be also extended. The 
agent, the ego, as a percipient and actor is not extended, why may not the extra-organic agent and non-eg 
be non-extended, or why must it be extended? How is it shown to be correlative so far as to be extended^ 
except it is taken to be the analogon of the extended organism, i. e., like it in being spatial in many 
percepts, etc., etc., but unlike it in certain other sense-percepts, as we have explained. 

With the eye § 150 * ^ et ' now > tne e y e ^e opened, after all the acquisitions 
be°ins er pr ° blem nave Deen made which are possible to touch, and another 

duty would be imposed, viz., the duty of connecting the per- 
ceptions of the eye with those appropriate to the hand. This duty is, in 
fact, performed by every person born blind, to whom sight is given in 
later years. In the developments of infancy, the eye performs a service 
similar to that which it renders in the acquisitions made by the blind in 
mature life ; with this difference, that the eye does not wait to furnish its 
aid till the hand has done all that it can possibly accomplish without it. 
When the eye and the hand are developed together, by their mutual aid 
they greatly shorten the processes of acquisition, and of making the 
results more sure. What each can do apart, we have already considered. 
It is fair to infer that in the processes by which infancy makes its acqui- 
sitions, that what each can do best it will perform for the other. If the 
touch gives the first distinct knowledge of the third dimension of space, 
it places this knowledge at the service of the eye. The eye, if it cannot 
dfcectly discern distance, can yet observe and interpret the signs of dis- 
tance. The hand can determine the relative distances of objects only 
within its reach ; or »it must measure off distance by counting its steps, 
carrying the body as it goes. But the eye can, by a glance, reach for rods 
and furlongs and miles, and measure with sufficient accuracy for the com- 
mon occasions of life. In respect to direction, how helpless is the hand 
without the eye. If we hold a ring with one hand, and, with closed eyes, 
seek to thrust a stick through it by a single effort, we can do it with little 
precision. Even the blind must be cautious and slow in the movement, 
and uncertain of the result. But the eye fixes its gaze on the object, and 
directs the practised muscles to strike the mark with the nicest precision. 
By the eye, the muscles can be adjusted to sling a stone, to hurl a lance, 
to aim the rifle even at moving objects, and to strike these objects with 
marvellous accuracy. All these feats would be impossible without the 
eye. They are accomplished with the aid of the eye only as the muscles 
are so adjusted, by means of the sensations which indicate their position, 
as to signify that through these adjustments the mark can be reached on 
which the eye is fixed. 

That the eye and the hand must conspire in infancy, is not only 
uponlnfants 10118 ^' d ^J ^° ^ e inferred, but it is evident from observation of the 

experiments which the infant is continually making with both. 

First : it is evident that the infant learns to touch ; by which we mean not merely that i* 



186 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 157 

'earns to use its hands, but that it learns to use them with intelligence, and to interpret its 
touch-perceptions. Second : it is equally evident that it learns not only to use its eyes in see- 
ing, and to judge Avhat its sight-perceptions signify, but also to combine its sight and touch- 
perceptions together, and makes the one to serve as the signs of the other. 

As the eye of the infant rolls or rests in the socket, or is caught for an instant by the 
excitement of the stimulating light, so the hands and arms, at first, hang uselessly from the 
shoulders, or dangle hither and thither, resting on whatever may sustain them. They can 
neither grasp nor hold, much less can they be carried to a point on which desire fixes the eye; 
nor can they, in obedience to desire, hold and carry an object, as food to the mouth, or release 
it when it is brought to its destined place. All these uses of the hand must be learned by 
attention. That they are learned, is evident from the aimless use of the hands at first, from 
the many experiments, and failures, and final successes which follow, and from the gratification 
that is manifested at success. 

The earliest objects which attract the persistent attention of the infant's eye are the 
hands. As these are to be the instruments of its activity and the arbiters of its earthly des- 
tiny, it is natural and appropriate that they should occupy the largest share of its earliest 
notice. It is impossible that it should be otherwise for two or three reasons. They are 
always before its eyes, ever flitting to and fro in aimless and convulsive movements, and chal- 
lenging its notice as they are passing across its limited field of vision. As if to concentrate 
the whole energy of the attention upon the action of the hands, the infant is short-sighted, 
and, till it is four months old, observes only the nearest objects, and then objects somewhat 
more remote, till, by gradual advances, the whole spectacle of the universe is unveiled and 
opened to the view. Cf. Loebisch, p. 28. 

§ 157. But before we can connect the percepts of touch with 
?ision° pment ° f tnose °f sight, we must trace for a while the development 

of the eye. Vision seems to begin at that early period when 
the bright and steady light attracts and holds the infant's eye, or when, as 
it moves, it carries the eye with itself wherever it leads. Certain objects 
that glisten with reflected rays, or that are brilliant with intense color, are 
soon separated from the background of undistinguished things against 
which they are projected, or athwart which they are moved. It is not 
easy to decide how much of intellectual perception attends this early mov- 
ing and fixing of the eyes, and how much is an unconscious and reflex 
response of the nervous organism to the stimulating light. The eye is so 
constructed that only a single portion of the retina can give a perfect 
image of an object that comes within the field of view ; so that, when a 
bright object comes before the eye at all, it will hold or draw the eye to 
or after it, by the reflex action of the nerves which its brightness excites. 
Whenever the mind perceives such an object as a distinct and definite per- 
cept, then vision begins. Such a percept, as has already been explained, is 
known as a non-e^o, and is known to be extended in two dimensions. 
We have already given the reasons why, in the beginnings of vision, the 
percept should not be placed in the retina or the eye (§ 135). 

It remains for us to show why, at the moment when this place comes to be 
Why percepts of fixed, it should be projected in space. With this projection of visible objects 
iectedinTpace " a fr° nt °f tne e y e » begins its development, or education of the sense of vision, 

if this location is acquired, and not intuitive. It is not easy to explain the 



§157. DEVELOPMENT AND GROWTH OP SENSE-PERCEPTION. 187 

steps of the process, or the grounds why its percepts are carried forward into space, and nol 
located in the eye itself. Some contend that no explanation can be given, because none is 
required ; that there is no problem, because there is no process, it being, in their view, by an 
ordinance of nature that the object seen should first be seen at the eye's focal distance for- 
ward, and that here is fixed the original starting-point from which all the acquired judgments 
of distance proceed. They insist that all objects, as viewed by the act of original vision, are 
seen. in a hollow sphere — forward, above, below, on this side and that — whose radius is this focal 
distance. Cf. Thorndale, etc., by William Smith, pp. 441, 442. Such must of necessity hdld 
that the act of projection is original, and not in any sense acquired. 

Those who hold that it is acquired, give various explanations of the process. The most 
plausible is the following : The eye, though, like the hand, it is moved by muscles which are 
directed by the aid of the appropriate sensations, does not, when in its normal or healthy state, 
give any tactual sensations by the felt contact of its surface with the objects which affect it, 
nor do the muscular sensations themselves attract the attention. There are no positive expe- 
riences either of muscular or tactual sense-perceptions which should fix the visible object at 
the base or on the surface of the eye. These objects excite the idiopathic sensations of color, 
as the objects of taste excite theirs on the tongue, but without the sensations of contact and 
of muscular action, such as the tongue as a touching organ invariably gives. 

We assume, before these experiments begin, that the eye possesses a native 
Most plausible notion of space, which has become more or less distinct and familiar by the 
explanation. mind's experience of the trinal extension of the sensorium, We may 

assume, moreover, that in the way already explained (§ 155 ), space and 
spatial objects external to the body have become familiar through the sense of touch and the 
use of the hand ; in other words, that space has been prolonged or projected beyond those 
limits which the experience of contact has drawn around the sensorium. 

At the surface of the eye such tactual experiences are wanting, and of course no such 
limits can be defined. So soon as the lids are raised and the experiences of color are made, 
the eye gropes after these strange objects, but cannot touch them. It reaches after them, as it 
were, but they are beyond its reach. But still they exist. If they draw near, while the eye 
regards them, they fill more of its field of view ; if they withdraw, they occupy a less exten- 
sive plane. Meanwhile, as they draw near or remove, the eye is adjusted to perfect vision, 
and its adjustments and motions are known by changing sensations ; but still the objects can- 
not be touched, nor can they be reached. By all these criteria, visible percepts are strikingly 
contrasted with those which are tangible — they exist ; they cannot be touched by the eye, nor 
can the eye reach them. They are in space somewhere without the body. This somewhere 
is definitely fixed as soon as the object seen, coincides with the object which is touched. The 
where Of its percept, after which the eye inquires, is answered as sooi#as the hand touches the 
object seen. The limited distance which is measured by the sensations proper to the extended 
hand, becomes fixed and clear, and the object held by the hand and gazed at by the eye is dis- 
tinctly projected in space. Henceforward the eye and the hand go together beyond the limited 
range which is at first allotted to them, into the unexplored infinitude that awaits their labors. 
u Wir schieben die auf unseren Augen liegende Hohlkugel fast im eigentlichen Sinne des 
Wortes mit den Htinden von uns forty M. J. Schleiden, Zur Theorie des Erkenncns durch 
den Gesichtssinn, p. 41. 

Then comes the power to set up a field of vision. First, the mind must construct certain 
definite objects of vision out of the bewildering multitude of colors and outlines which present 
themselves to the unpractised eye. Next, it must select a few of these objects for its observa- 
tion at a single look. These it must place in a plane more or less distant, leaving out of dis- 
tinct vision objects near and remote, estimating distance and judging size in the ways already 
explained. These acts and judgments of the quick and sensitive eye, aided by the slower and 
cooler hand, must be repeated again and again, till any required field of vision can be selected 
nd constructed with ease and precision, so that we seem to see space, distance, and dim en- 



188 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §158 

pi on by the simple glance of the eye. These space relations, when once learned, are so few, 
so simple, so easily indicated, and so completely established, that they seem never to have 
been learned at all. They become entwined in all our associations ; they leap at once to the 
imagination ; they preoccupy it so completely as to shut out the possibility of the opposite ; 
their suggestions are accepted by the intellect with a rapidity that often leads to illusion and 
error. Hence is it that all the so-called subjective sensations are at once projected into space 
Hence, when the veins of the retina themselves become the objects of vision, they are seen 
afront of the eye, a dark arborescence projected on an illuminated background. Hence, when 
we look into a mirror, either natural or artificial, we see all its reflected objects in the depths 
of space. Hence the spectra of the imagination, the visions which haunt the phantasy of the 
diseased and insane, are all distributed in space. 

Returning to the sense of touch, we observe that : 
The connection 8 158. The first acquisition of sight and touch is to connect 

of the hands as .. ^ 

seen and the the hands as seen with the hands as directly felt and man- 
hands as touch- _.. ,, . . -»-./> ,.. 
ed. aged through the muscular sensations. Before this is pos- 
sible, the hands as seen must become familiar as definite and separated 
objects, with forms that are easily recognized. The muscular sensations 
must also have become definite and distinct to the attentive intellect. 

Another touch-perception should not be overlooked: — that is, the 
tactual sensations must also have been familiarly observed, definitely dis- 
tinguished, and so far connected with the muscular and internal, in the 
way already explained, as to enable the infant to know that its hands are a 
part of its own body, as well as to distinguish its body from other mate- 
rial objects. This knowledge being given, the mind must learn to connect 
the hands as seen, with the hands as moved and touched. To unite these 
two percepts is one of the first and most important of the acquired per- 
ceptions which the infant masters. How this can be effected, seems not 
difficult to explain. It should be considered, for the reasons already given, 
that these three classes of objects are the only objects with which the 
infant is conversant. These occupy its sole attention. They constitute 
and complete its universe. Two of these coincide in place. All these 
coincide in time. *They all occur together. How can the seen hand be 
connected with the hand that is touched and moved ? We answer — just 
as soon as the mind can raise this question, or just as fast as it can have 
the knowledge of the relations of place and distance with which it is con- 
cerned, just so soon is it qualified to know that the object seen is in the 
same place with the hand that is moved and handled. 

Let one hand lie upon another, or let the hand rest upon a material object that does not 
belong to its body. The eye watches the process, and as the hand holds the surface with its 
sentient touch, so the eye holds it with its gaze ; it observes that what was still, is now in 
motion ; that what was seen, is now covered, and by the interposing hand. Or, if the process 
be described in terms taken from the language of vision only, one patch of color or shade or 
light is obscured by another which moves before it and hides it from the view. Or, one is 
moved behind another, and is hidden from sight. In this way the two percepts coincide in 
dace, and one is made the sign of the other ; when one is seen, it is expected that the other will 



§ 159. DEVELOPMENT AND GROWTH OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 189 

be felt ; when one is felt, the mind expects that the other will be seen. As the mind proceeds 
and masters the other relations of form, place, size, distance, etc., the import of either percept 
as a sign of the other becomes to the same extent enlarged. It is a sign not only of the othei 
as a percept simply, but of all the relations which it signifies. 

The world of the ^ * s man if es t that the explanation of the process by "which 
w e ria ai of the ^ e m f ant l earns to connect and unite the percepts of its 
hand - hands, or of other parts of its body, applies equally well to 

those acts by which it learns to connect the percepts of all material 
objects, so as to view them as single things. That this power is acquired, 
and neither innate nor connate, is obvious. That it is acquired by experi- 
ment and observation, is equally clear. The world of the eye and the 
world of the hand are at first diverse and apart. How to bring them 
together, is the first problem of infancy. Upon this problem it tasks its 
earliest powers. At last these two worlds rush together, coinciding so 
completely that it seems inconceivable that they should ever have been 
held apart. 

But why, we often ask, if these two worlds were once separate, and were only united by 
the slow processes of early experiment, why cannot we part them a second time ? Why can- 
not we sometimes perceive by the eye alone, omitting all the inferences which we borrow from 
touch ? The reason is, that what we learn so early, we cannot forget or leave unconsidered. 
The facts are so important, so constantly used, they have been learned so long and have been* 
used so often, that we cannot imagine a condition of existence in which we did not as yet 
know them. We might as easily forget that we can count, or forget the alphabet, or forget! 
our very selves, as to place ourselves in the condition in which we were before we united the 
hand which we see, with the hand which we touch and move. 

§ 159. But to proceed with our eager and impatient infant 
otner acqiiisi- a^ s soon as it has mastered the objects within its reach and 

tions of infancy. J # 

range, so that eye and hand are united as one, each helping 
the other, it makes the hand aid the eye in respect to objects which it can- 
not feel and handle. This it can do only by careful experiments, involving 
many errors. Indeed, the infant scarcely judges by the eye of any object 
which it cannot also handle and measure with its hands. Every thing else 
is either unregarded and vaguely stared at, or it haunts the vision as some- 
thing it cannot interpret. It is not till childhood is reached and thought 
is developed, and the power of comparing and reasoning is consciously de- 
veloped, that distant objects are cared for and judged of with intelligence 
and confidence. 

It is instructive to watch the timid yet adventurous experiments which an infant makes, 
especially with its hands. First, it strikes about in aimless efforts, or makes a play for its eyes 
with the half convulsive motions of its little fists. By a gradual progress it learns to reach 
after the few objects which the eye has separated from the background — the infinite unknown 
which lies beyond its reach and beyond its aims. Soon it endeavors to lay hold of objects 
which the eye rests upon that are quite beyond its reach. It clutches after the distant lamp, 
the fire-blaze, or the polished fire-iron. By slow but sure progress it masters the objects within 
Its own apartment, and can apply its rude standards of size and distance to the objects within 




190 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 160 

the apartment, to the finite world which its four walls enclose. All beyond is infinitude. Diir 
ing this time, as has been said, the infant is short-sighted, till many months of its life have 
elapsed, with the express design that it should be forced to master all near objects before it 
is tempted beyond. 

If we would conceive how the world out of doors may appear to an infant brought ta 
How the world * ne window, after it is somewhat familiar with the form, size, and relative positions of 
appears to an in- the objects within, we may read what is told of Caspar Hauser, who is said to have been 
f ar *" confined, till the age of seventeen, in a darkened apartment, without communication 

with nature by the senses, or with man by language. The story, whether true or false, 
meets the case. " I directed him," says his teacher, " to look out of the window, pointing to the wide and 
extensive prospect of a beautiful landscape that presented itself in all the glory of summer, and asked him 
whether what he saw was not very beautiful. He obeyed, but instantly drew back with visible horror, 
exclaiming, 'ugly, ugly !' and then pointing to the white wall of his chamber, he said, 'there not ugly.' 
Several years after, his friend asked him if he recalled the remembrance of the scene, and of his own feel- 
ings, and he said : * "What I then saw was very ugly ; for when I looked at the window, it always appeared 
to me as if a window-sbutter had been placed before my eyes, upon which a wall-painter had spattered the 
contents of his different brushes, filled with white, blue, green, yellow, and red paint, all mingled together. 
Single things, as I now see things, I could not at that time recognize and distinguish from each other. 
That what I then saw were fields, hills, and houses ; that many things which at that time appeared much 
larger were in reality much smaller, while many other things which appeared smaller were in reality 
larger than other things, is a fact of which I was afterward convinced in the experience gained in my 
walks.' He also said, 'that in the beginning, he could not distinguish between what was really round and 
what was only painted as round or triangular. The men and horses represented on sheets of pictures 
appeared to be precisely as men and horses carved on wood.' "—Caspar Hauser ; An Account, etc. (trans- 
lated from the German), pp. 88, 89. 2d edition. Boston, 1833. 

We need not pursue our synthesis further. We need not further 
ask how the infant builds up the rest of its knowledge, or acquires its 
infant skill. We need not ask how the infant learns to use its hands, 
to grasp, to hold, and to handle a spoon, a fork, or a knife, or how it 
learns to walk, or talk ; for all these processes can be explained by analo- 
gous processes which occur within our recollection. Still less need we ask 
how it learns to connect the percepts of smell, of taste, and of sound, with 
their appropriate objects. These problems present no difficulty and re- 
quire no solution. 

We persistently ask why we cannot unravel some of these combinations which we make 
m earliest infancy, and more than half discredit the assertion that we make them at all. We 
forget that, in respect to analogous processes in later life, we cannot place ourselves at a point 
behind them ; we cannot remember where we were, nor what we knew, before we had mas- 
tered the skill to use them. It is the result which interests us, and which occupies the atten- 
tion so as to impress the memory. The process does not impress us, because we do not watch 
it ; therefore we forget it, or, rather, never recall it at all. The state in which we were, before 
the sepet of interpreting one percept by another, is also left behind. Now that we can inter- 
pret the indications aright, it seems to us that we always could. Hence we cannot imagine the 
condition in which we did not know and could not understand that which we cannot cease to 
know and interpret. 

As to the question whether the mind, in earliest infancy, is competent to intelligent per- 
ception at all, that has been fully discussed in answering a similar inquiry in regard to a some- 
what later period (§ 148). 

§ 160. The phenomena attendant upon the recovery of sight by persons who 
birth, upon the had been blind from birth, have already been referred to as illustrating and 
ajght. VOry ° f establishing some of the positions advanced in the preceding chapter. They 

deserve a separate and more particular notice. 



§160. DEVELOPMENT AND GROWTH OF SENSE-PEECEPTION. 191 

Such persons are like infants in this respect, that they must learn to see — i. e., they must 
go through all the processes of which the infant has experience. In doing this, they must use 
and so bring to light the several stages or steps of which the processes are composed, as well 
as the grounds or data of judgment on which the several acquisitions are founded. They 
differ from infants in this respect, that their perceptions of touch are already perfected when 
„hey begin to see ; while those of the infant are developed in connection with, and often by 
the aid of the acquisitions of sight. The blind person has also a greater maturity of intellect, 
and of course a higher capacity for performing the judgments and forming the habits which 
are involved. They have the disadvantage, on the other hand, of being more occupied with 
other objects, so that their attention is likely to he less concentrated upon this problem. Their 
sensibilities are less quick and plastic than are those of infancy. The value of the recorded 
observations depends greatly upon the intelligence and the honesty of the observer. The 
patients cannot be supposed capable of analyzing their own processes. Those who observe 
them, ought to be acquainted with the problems or questions to be solved, so as wisely to con- 
duct their own inquiries and skilfully to apply the decisive tests, or experimenia cruris. In the 
words of Diderot : " To prepare and question one born blind, would not have been unworthy 
of the combined talents of Newton, Descartes, Leibnitz, and Locke." They need also to be 
wary in their estimate of evidence, so as not to put leading questions, or to over or wrongly esti- 
mate the answers of the patient. 

The cases which are most easily accessible to the English reader — which are, indeed, the 
most satisfactory and decisive of any on record — are those reported in the Philosophical Trans- 
actions of the Royal Society of London for the years respectively, 1728, 1801, 1807, 1826, and 
1841. The persons operated upon differed greatly in respect to age, mental capacity, and 
the degree of their previous blindness. The observations and experiments with all of them 
may be accepted as having established the following facts and truths : 

The patients, as soon as they began to see, saw objects not only as colored, but as extended. 
Their experiences give no countenance whatever to the views of Stewart and Brown, that color 
can be perceived without extension, and that the two are united by inseparable association. It 
is true that in almost every case the patients, previously to their recovery to sight, had some 
experience of light, and of course of light superficially extended or diffused. But this expe- 
rience of light was so obviously dependent upon the affection of the retina, as to indicate, if 
not to prove, that any experience of light whatever involves the perception of extension. 

The extension which they perceived by sight was in two dimensions only. This was made 
evident from a few experiments instituted with express reference to this point in the case of 
one of the most intelligent. A solid cube and a solid sphere were both taken by him to be 
simply discs or planes. A solid cube and a flat projection of the same were both taken to be 
flat and in every respect alike. A pyramid, when turned toward him so as to present one of 
its sides only, was called a triangle. When the pyramid was turned so as to expose a part of 
another side, he could not make out what it was. 

As to distance from the eye or the place where objects are located in original perception, 
the testimony is unanimous and decisive that objects at first seem very near — how near, could 
not be exactly known — and that the relative distance of each object beyond this indeterminate 
limit is learned by experience. Most of the patients were afraid to move, lest they should hit 
against objects that were comparatively remote. Two or three of the patients, in attempting 
to reach objects extended to them, clutched behind the objects when held near before them, 
and when more remote, only succeeded in grasping them after repeated efforts. Cheselden's 
boy said, at first, that all objects touched his eye. The boy reported by Sir Edward Home 
(1807) said the sun and the candle touched his eye, even before the cataracts were removed ; 
and, just after the first operation, said the head of the surgeon did the same. But after a 
second operation, he said the sun and candle did not touch his eye. It is probable that the 
objects which were said to touch the eyes, in these two cases, stimulated the eye so actively as 
to present some analogy to the muscular sensations accompanying touch, with which, in every 



192 THft HUMAN INTELLECT. § 161. 

possible form, the patient was so familiar. Hence they interpreted and called these expe- 
riences perceptions of touch. 

All these persons were forced to learn by experience to combine the percepts of sight 
with the familiar impressions of touch, so as to translate the one into the other. All expe- 
rienced a difficulty similar to that of Cheselden's boy with the dog and cat. When they saw 
objects a second time, and were not certain that they could recall them, they reached for them 
with the hand, and could not be content till they had- handled them a second time. Their 
judgments of size and form all needed to be acquired. Visible mathematical figures, its a 
square, a circle, and rectangle, could not be recognized till the fingers were resorted to. One 
patient did make out one or two of these figures, by drawing the outline with her finger in the 
air, and, as it were, constructing the figure with the finger, after the lines presented to the eye. 
Another could not understand how drawings of objects could represent the objects, till he 
revived the percepts of the objects in his fingers. Most of them were embarrassed by draw- 
ings and pictures, not being able to see likenesses or to understand perspective, or to perceive 
that light and shade represented form and distance. Their judgments of the comparative size 
of objects were embarrassing to them. Cheselden's boy knew that his own room was a part 
of the house, but could not easily believe the house was so much larger than the apartment. 

The testimony is uniform, also, that, in learning to see objects as separate things, the con- 
structive power is brought into play, requiring intelligent attention and constant memory on 
the part of the percipient, and that it is only slowly, at best, that the mind learns to set apart 
its separated objects, to form its field of vision, to locate objects as near and remote by the 
various signs which it learns to interpret. In short, these observations and experiments con- 
firm and illustrate all that has been said in this chapter in respect to the early development 
and growth of sense-perception. 



CHAPTER VII. 



THE PRODUCTS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION ; OR, THE PERCEPTION OF MATERIAL 

THINGS. 

Thus far we have considered sense-perception as a process, and in its growth. We proceed 
next to discuss its results in those products which become the permanent possessions of 
the mind. We have already explained of knowledge in general, that, as an activity of 
the intellect, it is brought to its appropriate termination when its objects can, so to speak, 
be detached from the process by which they were so matured as afterward to be retained, 
recalled, and recognized. This is eminently true of this form of knowledge. Sense-per- 
ception is only complete when it results in the knowledge of material things. 

Material thin s § 161. A material thing or object as known by sense-percep. 
and Bense-per- tion is a completed whole made up of separate percepts. 
We distinguish the knowledge of things from the knowledge 
of percepts. A percept, as has been explained, is the appropriate object 
of the mind's knowledge through a single organ of sense. A thing is the 
result of the mind's knowledge in apprehending several percepts as united 
into a finished whole, with the relations which this combination involves. 

As an example of the difference, take an apple. The apple seen, touched, srcellcd, 
tasted, and heard, are separate percepts. The object perceived by the combination of all 



§ 162. THE PRODUCTS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 193 

these percepts is the apple, or material thing. The separate original perceptions give as manj 
percepts. The original and acquired perceptions, when united as a whole, give material 
objects or things. 

Two questions now present themselves for consideration : By what means, and under wha* 
relations, does the mind unite separate percepts into things or objects ? Under what con- 
ditions does the mind so complete its knowledge of percepts and of things, as to be able to 
-etain and recall them as permanent objects of knowledge ? 

We begin with, the first of these questions : By what steps, and under 
what relations, does the mind unite percepts into things or material 
objects ? We answer : 

By what reia- § 162 * P erce P ts are united into things by two successive 
ci 01 tl made Into ste P s or stages, to each of which there is an appropriate 
things i product. By the first, it unites these percepts into a mate- 

rial thing, or whole, under the relations of space and time. By the 
second, it connects the whole and its parts under the relation of substance 
and attributive quality. These several percepts united in all these rela- 
tions constitute what is commonly known as a material thing. 

It has already been shown how the percepts of sight and the percepts 
of touch are referred by the mind to the same portion of space. The seen 
hand and the touched hand are found to lie in the same direction, and to 
be at the same distance from any and every part of the body, from which 
they are measured off by the eye. In the same way the apple or the egg, 
the chair or the table, which are seen and touched, coincide in the same 
portion of space. They are in the same place. By the same process the 
body itself has been previously perceived to be one material thing. 

This coincidence in place is the first of the constructive or synthetic 
acts by which the mind, in sense-perception, forms to itself its perceptions 
of objects. The percepts of sight and touch are the most prominent and 
important. When these are united in one, the other percepts, as of smell, 
taste, and sound, are readily attached. The object which we touch, we 
also taste. We touch it when we taste it. The same object we touch and 
smell. The sound which we hear when it is struck, or when it falls, is- 
referred to it more indirectly by a process and under a relation which we 
need not here explain (cf. § 166). 

It is of course necessary that the percepts, thus definitely united in a common whole, 
should be distinguished from the other percepts which are apprehended by the same sense.. 
Distinct and definite bounds of extension must be assigned to every percept, else they could 
not coincide with one another under the same dimensions. When they are thus united, the 
mind has perceived a material thing or object. The object perceived by the eye and the hand 
fills or occupies, as we say, the same space, and so far it is one object or thing. 

Other relations are afterward apprehended, under which these separate percepts stand to 
one another, to the mind which perceives them, and to the physical organization by which 
they are perceived. But the relation of a common extension is the first in the order of time, 
and fundamental in the order of thought. The infant finds things when it fixes on a place for 
its percepts of sight and touch. It knows material objects when it discovers that what it sees 
and what it touches can be reached by its outstretched arm, or by a certain number of steps. 
13 



194 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §164. 

8 163. The first stage of perception is complete when it 

The first stage °. . . & r r . ^ 

of perception; gives a, material object, or whole, m this lower sense, viz., a 

when complete. . . _,. D J , ...-,, . , „ 

combination of the percepts that are appropriate to each of 
the organs of sense, by means of the relations of space and time. The 
percepts of sight and touch are inseparably united in space, and this is the 
earliest combination made by the intellect which may properly be called a 
material thing. With these two are connected the percepts of taste, 
smell, and sound, at first under the relation of simultaneous occurrence in 
time. 

It is obvious that the several percepts, when" viewed as connected into a whole under these 
relations, have a very unequal relative importance. The percepts of sight and touch, to those 
who can see and feel, as they are defined in place and eminently objective, constitute the mate- 
rial object as it is usually conceived and named. The percepts of smell, sound, and taste, are 
its invariable attendants in time, until they are connected with it by another relation. 

To those who see, even though they can also feel, the leading percepts are those of sight. 
The name of an object suggests its visible form and color, etc., rather than the object as 
touched ; a certain and decisive evidence that it is the object as seen which is most prominent 
and attractive to the mind, and therefore is most readily recalled to the imagination. 

To the blind, on the other hand, it is the object as touched, or the tangible percept, which 
is suggested by the name, and to his imagination constitutes the thing perceived. 

The other percepts, as of taste, smell, and sound, are connected with the combined per- 
cepts of touch and hearing less readily, and by a looser bond. As at first experienced, they 
are referred to the sentient organism, and less readily separated from it. They are more sen- 
sational and subjective, less perceptional and objective. As to the manner and the relations 
by which they are first connected with the percepts of sight and touch, philosophers are not 
agreed. It must at least be true, that whatever other relations unite them to material things, 
they must at the very earliest period be their constant attendants in place and time. 

However quickly the human intellect may learn to connect them with their objects under 
higher and more intimate relations, it must first know them as constant attendants one of 
another. When a given sound or smell or taste is perceived, it certainly connects it with the 
seen or touched object with which it has been previously attended. Under these laws or rela- 
tions the human intellect recalls one percept by another percept, or one object by one of its 
percepts, even when it recalls them by higher relations. The animal intellect connects and 
recalls objects and percepts by no other. 

When, then, the human intellect has learned to connect its percepts in space and time, as 
things or wholes, in the way explained, one stage or step in the process of perceiving material 
things or products is complete, and one product is evolved, viz., several percepts coinciding in 
space and time. 

thin § -^' ^ e conce pti° n 0I> a material thing or whole, made up 
capable of van- f extended parts or single percepts, is, however, very 
tions. equivocal in its import and varied in its application. To an 

infant with limited experience, the greater part of an apartment may be 
perceived as a single object or thing; the only separable objects in it 
being the chair, table, and a few utensils, the position of which is often 
changed. To a child, a horse and carriage, seen together for the first 
time, may be a whole, or a single object. The savage perceives a ship or 
steamer to be a huge animal. Many observations and experiments, much 



§165. THE PRODUCTS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 19? 

information from others, repeated lessons inferred from words and names 
properly applied, are required to enable the child to distinguish things aj 
wholes and parts ; to hold apart objects that should not be united ; and tc 
unite objects that should not be divided. The point of view from which 
ybjects are observed, and the purpose or use to which they are to be ap- 
plied, direct in the formation and application of names, and determine 
whether this or that object shall be regarded as a whole or part of a thing. 
A house with its grounds, the house alone, an apartment, a door, a win- 
dow, the smallest perceived portion of either, each and all, are things or 
parts of things, according to the principle or use which regulates the 
application of the respective terms. But whether a perceived whole is 
greater or smaller in its spatial dimensions, it must have defined spatial 
dimensions and be capable of being perceived by one of the leading 
senses, if it is perceived as a material thing. Whatever the thing may be, 
the percepts of which it consists must at least be capable of being per- 
ceived as occupying the same space, and of occurring together in time. 

This, it should be observed, is a material or sense-object as perceived or as 
Percepts recalled made ready for recall. When it is recalled, these parts, thus coincident in 
of time relatlons space and time, can only be represented by successive acts in continuous 

time. When a perceived object becomes an idea, the several percepts which 
compose it are represented one by one — the form, the color, the feeling, the taste, the smell, 
and the sound. Even single percepts, when very extended or complicated, can be represented 
in parts only, in the successive instants of time which successive acts of representation 
require. 

SV fl Th C e°re- § 165, ^7 tne secon< ^ stage or step of the perceptive process, 
stance and attd- ^ ne severa l percepts or parts are connected with one another, 
bute - or with the whole which they constitute, as substance and 

attribute. Thus the objects of the sense of touch are "known as hard or 
soft, rough or smooth, elastic or non-elastic, etc., etc. Those of sight are 
red, yellow, orange, violet, and green ; those of hearing are sharp, smooth, 
harsh, and sweet ; those of smell are pungent, exhilarant, fetid ; and all 
these qualities are ascribed to an object to which they belong, and of which 
they are affirmed to be attributes. Certain relations of time and exten- 
sion, as long and short, square and round, are in like manner treated as 
properties or attributes. They are more than parts of wholes which they 
help to constitute ; they are connected with a being or agent, the nature 
of which they define, the presence of which they signify, and the powers 
of which they manifest. 

It is not here in place to discuss the nature of this special relation which has oc- 
General defini- casioned so much speculation and dispute among metaphysicians (P. iv. c. vii ). 
tion of tins rela- j fc j g su ffi c i e nt here to say, that as we have already shown that knowledge 

of every kind necessarily gives beings and relations, or beings as related, we 
are prepared to understand the definition of a substance as a being that is capable of being 
distinguished by relations ; and of attributes, qualities, and properties, as relations used to dis 



196 THE HUMAN" INTELLECT. § 166 

tinguish and describe or define beings. That the objects of perception, both wholes and parts-^ 
i. e., combined and single percepts — are in fact connected in this way, is too obvious to require 
illustration and proof. 

§ 166. The relations most frequently employed to distinguish 
frequently used and define beings, are relations of time, space, and causality. 

As soon as beings are known as enduring for a longer or 
shorter period, or having this or that size or form, and these relations are 
used to designate or distinguish them from other beings, these relations 
become their attributes. As soon as the sense-object is known as the pro- 
ducer of sensations, as of smell, taste, or sound — i. e., as capable, under 
certain conditions, of producing these effects, it would be known as en- 
dowed with attributes ; viz., distinguishable capacities to produce these 
effects. The sensations would, in their turn, be referred to these beings 
as their causes or originators. No illustration is needed to prove that the 
sense-element, the sensation, in these three percepts is naturally and early 
regarded as an effect. So far as the mind is passive in sensation, it must 
be so regarded. The sensation is experienced when the object or being is 
near. It is felt less intensely when the object is remote. Its quality or 
intensity, one or both, vary with the varying conditions of the object. 
When an object is struck by a certain material, as wood or iron, or with a 
given force, it emits a sound of peculiar quality and intensity. An object 
of a certain visible form or color emits a certain odor. Another object 
emits a different odor, and both these odors vary in intensity at varying 
distances. An object with a certain form, feel, or color, when brought in 
contact with the tongue or palate, causes a certain taste. This experiment 
is perhaps, of all others, the best fitted to evolve to the mind an appre- 
hension of the relation of causality, leading to that of substance and 
attribute. Touched by the hand, no special novel sensation follows ; but 
touched by the tongue and palate, there ensues the specific sensation of 
taste. The object touched might have been regarded as a simple being or 
thing ; but the object tasted is known as also capable of originating the 
sensation in question. 

The three sense-percepts of smell, taste, and sound, as percepts, carry with 
smell, taste, and them some vague relations to extension, as has already been explained. But 
sound, first used these relations are likely soon to be overlooked, in comparison with the 

greater potency of the sensational element. This becomes still more promi- 
nent, because of its immediate relation to the forces which awaken the desires, and impel to 
action. The objects which we see and handle are very early regarded as interesting, from their 
^power to impart pleasure or pain. They are sought or avoided with intense excitement nf 
desire, and at the cost of toil and sacrifice. They are constantly contemplated as relateo. xo 
onr appetites and wants, to our comfort and pleasure. Almost as soon as they are known 
as things, they are known as causers or producers of certain agreeable or disagreeable sensa- 
tions, and are described and indicated by these capacities. These capacities are their attri- 
butes. By these they are ►known and recognized by the person himself. By these they are 
indicated and described to others. 



§ 166. THE PKODUCTS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 197 

? lce is S e tinS ^ * s (fP^e conceivable, as has been already suggested, that 
previous to sub- before these percepts and sensations are connected under the 

stance and attri- # r * 

bute - relation of substance and attribute, they should be known as 

constant attendants, coexistent or successive, and that, simply as con- 
joined, the presence or the thought of the one should, under the laws of 
association, suggest the thought of the other. It is under this relation 
that things and properties are known to the animal. It is obvious that the 
animal cannot and does not distinguish the relation of conjunction from 
that of causation. If he has experienced one sensation or sense-percept in 
connection with another, the repetition of the one brings up the image of 
the other, and the pain and pleasure, the hope and fear which are appro 
priate to it. The dog connects with the whip in the hand of his master 
the thought of chastisement and pain ; with the sight of his gun or his 
walking-stick, the excitement of a ramble or of sport. It is not easy to 
assert when and why the two relations are distinguished by man ; that 
they are distinguished, is obvious, for reasons which this is not the place 
to give. 

, . We have said that it is not till the second or advanced stage of the percep- 
This relation . , »,"■,,.- 

supposes reflex tive process that the percepts are connected under the relation of substance 

k^owledge! 1116 ^ and attri bute. This is evident when we reflect that, as a kind of knowledge, 
this is indirect and reflex, as distinguished from that which is direct and objec- 
tive. It supposes the objects related, the subject of sensations, and the object which occasions 
them, to be more or less familiar — to be discriminated respectively by consciousness and per- 
ception ; and that both subject and object are projected in the view of the mind upon the 
same plane, so that both are objects to its thought. A thing cannot be known as capable of 
producing sensations as effects, unless the body or the soul, one or both, are known as the 
conditions or subjects of its action ; and this requires that they should be placed afront the 
reflecting mind by a special effort, requiring that maturity and discipline which time alone can 
develope. Moreover, it supposes some degree of generalization, and some sort of induction. 
Many objects must have been touched and seen, before they are so far recognized as similar as 
to be taken for the same, in their causal efficiency. Many experiences must be had with the 
sensations of smell, taste, and sound, before these could be invariably referred to the same 
substances, as dependent on their properties or attributes. 

But generalization and induction are acts of thought, which is a power higher than that 
of simple perception. This is true ; but it has already been remarked, and needs ever to be 
kept in mind, that the higher and lower powers, though distinguishable in the kind of their 
activity, are not separated in fact. Moreover, the action of the lower is not complete without 
the higher. In one sense it is true, that an act of sense-perception is not complete, and its 
product is not perfected, until the soul's higher energies are awakened, and the object of them 
has been viewed in the higher relations. The human being can scarcely be said truly to have 
perceived even a pebble, as a man, till he has brought into action all the powers with which he 
is endowed as a man. The higher energies also react upon the lower, and excite them to 
greater efficiency. The relations appropriate to the higher, bring out in more striking relief 
those relations which are present even in the lowest acts. We may believe that even in the 
earlier exercises of the power of perception, there may be present some rudimentary activity 
of the higher capacities, to modify, direct, and elevate them. The higher may shape the lower 
nature, through those intrinsic relations which always stand ready to be revealed, or those 
cravings and impulses which anticipate developed knowledge. The infant's eye may not 



3 98 THE HUMAN" INTELLECT. §169. 

glisten with the penetrating sharpness of the eye of the young eagle, but it may wear the 
softer lustre which betokens dawning intelligence. The soul leaps into no single form of 
ictivity, least of all into the full development of its higher powers. 

The relation of substance and attribute has hy some writers heen denied to sense-per- 
fhis relation de- ception, and limited to thought or intelligence. Kant, by his nomenclature, would 
^ntion enS Kant" l imit to sense-perception the relations of time and space, and derive from the under- 
Hamilton. standing, or the logical faculty, the relation of substance and attribute. It is noticeable 

that Hamilton does neither! "While by definition he limits relations of every kind to 
the elaborative faculty, viz., the intelligence, in his explanation of perception, he includes in this the know- 
ledge of, and by, relations. His doctrine of immediate perception should give percepts only as extended 
sense-objects, but he makes it apprehend qualities, and not only qualities, but qualities of three classes, in- 
volving all the metaphysical relations of matter to matter, and of matter to mind. Moreover, he denies 
that by perception we have any knowledge of substance at all, this being a figment necessary to thought, 
from the impotence and not the power of the understanding. The immediate perception of Hamilton, on 
which he insists so earnestly, in his own exposition, gives only the knowledge of an extended percept — 
which, in his metaphysical theory, is relative to some unknown and unknowable substance beyond — and 
yet as he contends, we have immediate perception not only of things but of qualities, and not only of quali- 
ties but of qualities in three classes. 

"Were the knowledge of substance and attribute the product of generalization, we should deny it to 
6ense-perception, which by our definition has to do with individual objects only and the relations which 
they involve. The relation is not originated by generalization, however much it may be furthered and 
widened by it. It is therefore appropriately considered here. ' 



Of touch and § l 6 ^- Thus far we have called and known the substance as the object which 

sight percepts j s seen an( j touched, and its attributes as capacities to occasion the sensations 

conjoined; which ' 

is substance, and of smell, taste, and sound. We have connected a percept with a percept as 

which attribute ? 



substance and attribute — a leading percept, as of sight, with a sensational per- 
cept as of smell — and called the one a thing, and the other its quality. Let us push our 
inquiries a step backward, and, laying aside all consideration of these three senses, inquire, 
Which is the substance and which the attribute when the object consists solely of a percept 
cf touch and a percept of sight conjoined ? We answer, The one which is viewed as a percept 
— i. e., as a spatial object — is made the substance, provided it is viewed in the relation of 
cause to the sense-element involved* in the other. The object as touched and the object as 
seen, may respectively be substances, in their respective relations to the sensations of sight and 
of touch. We say, it is white — i. e., the object which I touch ; and again, it is hard — i. c, 
the object I see — the touch-percept and sight-percept being each in their turn taken as beings. 
§ 168. Let us narrow our thought still more, and consider singly the object 
When either are touched or the object seen. What is the being or substance, and what the 
taken alone. attribute or quality, when we have a single percept only, and view it in rela- 

tion to the sentient mind ? We reply, The object, as experienced to be, is 
known as a substance when considered as the producer of the sensation which is the condition 
of the perception. The tangible or visible object, as a being, is distinguishable as a space- 
occupying or extended something. As causing or producing the sensation of sight or touch, 
it is known as possessing the attribute of color or touch. The elements involved in every 
act of sense-perception provide for the possibility of this relation. The relation is not, in fact, 
discerned until the mind projects and brings up the perceived non-ego and the sentient ego into 
the same field of vision, by a reflex and comparing act. 

The sensation — i. e., the effect — is not the property or quality which produces it, though 
the two are called by the same name. Sweetness means one thing when it is said to be in the 
sugar, and another when it is experienced by the sentient soul. The heat, in one sense, is, 
and in another is not, in the fire. 

§ 169. A single additional remark is required concerning the 

quality of form attributes or properties of dimension and form, in material 

objects. We call an object long and short, round and square, 



§171. THE PEODUCTS OP SENSE-PEECEPTIOX. 199 

and, in so doing, distinguish the being from its attributes. Here we ask 
again, What is known as the being or substance ? We are forced to 
answer, that the being or substance, in the concrete thinking of ordinary 
men, is regarded as that which is touched or seen ; and this is the sub 
stance which is long or short, round or square. The being of the abstract 
thinker is, as we shall see, a generalized conception, which is equivalent to 
this or that perceivable or knowable thing of which the metaphysician 
says, it is long or short, round or square. 

But with the metaphysical conception of substance and qualities we need at present have 
little to do. The questions concerning substance and attributes in the general — concerning 
material substance in particular, and concerning the various divisions of sensible qualities into 
essential and accidental, into primary, secondary, and secundo-primary — may all be reserved 
for a more advanced stage of our inquiries, and another part of our treatise (P. iv. c. vii). 

. § 170. Our second question is, Under what conditions does 

Conditions of s . \ . 

permanent per- the mmd attain a definite, permanent knowledge of the 

ception. _ ° . 

objects of sense-perception, whether percepts or things, so 
that they can readily be recalled and recognized ? It is only when they 
are placed so completely in the possession of the mind as to be at its dis- 
posal, that the process of perception can be said to be complete. A far 
larger portion of the objects which we, in some sense, are said to perceive, 
fail entirely to be perceived to any effectual result. It is only a few of 
the myriads which we know, that we know in such a way as to be able to 
retain and recall them. 

When this is done, the object of perception is converted into an idea or 
Ideation of image. The real object apprehended by the mind becomes an intellectual 
sense-objects. object, having a purely ideal or psychical existence. By some writers the 

special term ideation is appropriated to this process. Sense-perception is said 
to be complete in the highest sense when its object is ideated, or becomes an idea. The rela- 
tion of the idea or image to its real correlate will be explained in its place. At present we need 
only notice that the appropriate result of the process of sense-perception is that it gives the 
power to recall and recognize the object perceived. 

Eeid says, Essay ii. chap, v., that the act of perception involves three things, of which the first is, 
"some conception or notion of the object perceived." It is evident from the illustrations which he gives 
of his meaning, that he confounds the act of originally gaining knowledge of an object by perceiving, and 
the act of recalling and recognizing the object afterwards. He should have said, that the act of perception 
involves the gaining or forming " some conception or notion of the object perceived," i. e., the performing 
a process — which results in the acquisition of a percept or idea. 

. § 171. But as every perceived object is composed of parts, 
^TomST as k as j ust been shown ; it follows that the perception of a 
thing can only be complete when the mind attains ideas of 
the parts or percepts of which the thing is composed, and of the parts as 
related to one another. In other words, the mind must distinguish the 
constituent percepts by completed or perfect acts of original perception, 
and combine or connect these percepts into things, by finished acts of ac- 



200 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. g 172 

quired perception. It is obvious that it is impossible to have an idea of 
the whole, without an idea of the parts. It is equally obvious that, what- 
ever aids in the attainment of a distinct and permanent idea of a part, 
favors, rather than hinders the gaining of an idea of the whole. We are 
naturally led to . consider the conditions of complete perceptions of the 
parts and relations of material things. 

Perceptions of objects, in order to be complete and permanent, must 
be distinct and definite. That is, the objects themselves must be distin- 
guished from other objects. 

This rule holds equally of percepts and of things. A single color, sound, touch, taste, 
etc., in order to be mastered, must be distinguished from every other color, sound, touch, and 
taste. So of things : a chair or a table, a house or horse, a pin or needle, even a grain of 
sand or a particle of dust, to be perceived in the sense described, must be distinguished from 
every other. It is, of course, implied that the power of distinguishing is gradually developed. 
To the infant, many colors and sounds, tastes and touches, are indistinct, which to the senses 
of the adult are clearly distinguished. Even many individual things are perceived as the 
same, which, to a more practised observer, are known to be diverse. "We name, as the first 
condition : 

First condition 8 172. (1.) Objects are most easily distinguished which are 

of completed per- ° ■ K < ' . t •' -i" -i • 

ception: Ener- apprehended with great energy — which are very strikingly 

gy, contrast, and tr - . . & ,. . . ., , n . to " 

resemblance. contrasted with, or which are similar to other objects. A 
lively color, a loud sound, a positive taste, etc., are more readily appre- 
hended than a color which is faint, a sound which is feeble, or a taste 
which is not positive. Things are more or less readily perceived with 
effect and permanence according as the percepts of which they are con- 
stituted are more or less readily known. 

The definiteness with which objects are perceived depends in part also 
on their likeness or unlikeness to other objects in connection with which 
they are presented to the mind. Of two percepts and two things that are 
very similar, and of two that are very unlike, those are more likely to be 
perceived which are in striking contrast to each other, than those which 
closely resemble one another. Two colors, two sounds, etc., as well as 
two apples or two paintings, are each more readily perceived and retained 
if they are strikingly contrasted, than if they are very similar. 

The likeness or unlikeness, the resemblance and contrast, are in part purely 
and contrasts, objective, — pertaining solely to the object perceived as related to the powers 
objective and Q £ sense .p erce ption supposed to belong to all men. In part they are sub- 
jective, and arise from the natural or acquired capability of the individual 
to feel and know. Thus, one class of persons are physically incapable of distinguishing differ- 
ent colors — as those who are color-blind. Others, who can discern the colors which are com-- 
monly named, can with difficulty distinguish shades of color that are nearly allied. Some per- 
sons are very insensible to differences and similarities of sounds, to which others are keenly 
alive. Even when the original sensibility of the senses and aptitudes' of the intellect present 
no diversity, there are the greatest possible differences of susceptibility, arising from differencea 
of habit and attention. 



§174. THE PRODUCTS OF SENSE-PEKCEPTIOX. 



201 



But under all these diversities of natural and acquired susceptibility, the lati 
Force of con- enounced holds good, that objects which to any one individual percipient are 
trast - nearly alike, are less likely to be distinctly perceived and retained : whu\! 

those which are set off against others by a positive and striking contrast, are 
far more likely to be perceived with that energy which is essential to distinct and definite 
recall. This law is established and confirmed both by observation and experience. The infant 
fixes its attention on those percepts and those things which are positive in their action upon 
the senses, and which are strikingly contrasted with others. A bright light in surrounding 
darkness, as a sunbeam through the shutter, the flame of a lamp with its distinct outline, a 
patch of bright color, a shining fire-iron — these first hold the eye with that fixed and consider- 
ate attention which is necessary to retention and recognition. In mature life the same law 
holds good : objects that are bright and distinct, or that in any way are presented in contrast, 
are those which are most readily noticed and most easily remembered. If the object has no 
interest for our fellow-men, but has a special interest for us from any cause whatever ; we need 
only perceive it, to be able to retain and remember it. The eye and the hand, the ear and the 
tongue, seek first of all to define the objects which they are to retain, so as to fix and hold the 
attention, and carry away a distinct idea. 

§ 173. (2.) Motion heightens the contrasts of perceived 
^modon 11 ^ 1011 Ejects, an ^ S lYes definiteness to the outline and limits, espe- 
cially of visible percepts. To the infant's eye, moving objects 
are the first which, so to speak, are separated from the undistinguished 
mass of blended color, in which the world of matter is at first arrayed. 
From this extended surface o.f color certain objects are detached, as the 
moving lamp, the walking person, the portable furniture and utensils. They 
pass to and fro athwart the background upon which they are projected, 
and are brought into contrast with its unbroken surface, till they take their 
place in the memory, as the first distinct objects with which it is provided. 
By degrees this undistinguished mass of blended light and shade, of form 
and color, is broken up, as one and another separate percept and distin- 
guished thing is detached by the mind's observation and is set apart in the 
mind's storehouse as a distinct idea. The influence of motion is not 
limited to visible objects. It is most important in giving distinct per- 
cepts to the sense of touch. The hand must move over the surface felt, 
or the surface must move over the hand, to leave distinct percepts of its 
limits and qualities. 

§ 174. (3.) Repetition is an efficient and often an indispen- 
TMrd condition, sa i)i e condition to the completion of an act of perception. 

repetition. - 1 r i. 

Even the simple percept, as a sound, a color, a taste, is more 
perfectly mastered by being apprehended in successive acts of attention. 
If several percepts are to be united as a single and separate thing, it is 
still more requisite that they be often apprehended by the same or continu- 
ously connected acts, in order that the object may be brought completely 
into possession and placed entirely at command. This is especially neces- 
sary if the percept or object, by reason of its spatial extent or the com- 
plexity of its elements, is beyond the power of the mind to master in a 
single act. In some cases, repetition serves to make the impression more 



202 TFIE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 175 

vivid and definite. In others, it is required in order that there be any 
impression at all. 

We have already observed, that no object of the mind's perception can 
be retained unless it is perceived with aroused and concentrated energy. 
The repetition of any act. if not excessive, contributes to such energy, and 
hence contributes to the definiteness aod permanence of the object. This 
is the general law. Its application to individual objects varies somewhat 
as the object is simple or complex, as it can be mastered by a single effort, 
or as it requires a succession of acts. 

Different schools of psychologists give different explanations of the utility and necessity 
Need of repeti- of repeated impressions, according to the fundamental principles by which their school 
the 1 aCC receptive is characterize<J - The school which resolves sense-perception into the passive reception 
school. of impressions from without, explain the necessity of repetition by its influence in 

accumulating a stock of such impressions— either in the subjective capacity or the object- 
ive material. 

Herbart and Benelce agree in this view of the nature of repetition so far as to hold, that each act of 
sense-perception leaves an impression or an effect behind — either in the soul itself, or a force acting within 
the soul. Before distinct perception is attained or consciousness is developed, there must be many repeated 
sensations in order to give a single positive or distinct perception. These are all accumulated, each rein- 
forcing the other — till at last, by the addition of them all, the mind attains a distinct and definite percept, 
as of a single color, sound, etc. After these percepts are reached, made up as they are of the residua of 
many single acts of sense, it is necessary that these again be perceived in combination by many repeated 
acts, before the mind reaches a permanent and definite perception of a thing. 

The effect on the soul is called by Beneke Spur = trace or relict, Angelegtheil = predisposition. The ef- 
fect of Herbart is in the form of a force or tendency imparted to the object or idea— and is called a residuum. 

In other words, according to these psychologists, repetition is necessary because each act leaves some 
effect behind, which is added to the stock already accumulated, the final result of the accumulations in all 
cases being distinctness and permanence in the object perceived, whether it be a simple percept, or a com- 
plex of percepts in a material thing. Their error lies in the mistaken or defective view of the mind's 
activity and its dependence on the conditions of its success, which they adopt. The mind, in knowing 
generally, and in perceiving in particular, is not as they conceive it, the passive subject of impressions— 
of which there must be a certain number with a given strength, to secure a definite and abiding result. 
The mind, in all its knowing— and consequently in all its perceiving — exercises a peculiar act, which we 
have defined as the being certain that some object is. This act is entirely different from the passive recep- 
tion of any accumulation of impressions, each sw^.ling the number and augmenting the strength of those 
which have gone before. So far as the act of knowing is concerned, a single exercise of this activity is 
adequate to a distinct and lasting impression. In not a few cases a single effort or application of the mind 
is as efficient as a score, in order to effect a lasting remembrance. Let the attention be fixed and held, 
and the whole force of the mental power be applied, and the mind cannot but receive a vivid and definite 
knowledge of a distinctly remembered object. A single stroke upon the die will leave a sharp and clear im- 
pression as truly as many and oft-repeated blows. And yet in point of fact, it is observed, that to the 
apprehension of most objects, many applications of the mind are required ; the single act is not adequate for 
a permanent impression; a single acquisition does not suffice. How is this possible? What is therein 
repetition which arouses the attention so as to fix and make lasting the object? This question will be 
answered under the two following heads. 

tSntccordm^to § 1 ^ 5 ' ( a ') Repetition often excites and gratifies the interest 
becauseit exriSs °^ ^ e soul in the objects perceived, and thus arouses and 
greater interest. fi xes the attention upon them with greater energy. 

This is illustrated by the example of many single per- 
cepts! 11 ^ e P ° r " cepts. A color or sound gives pleasure when once perceived. 
Let it solicit the mind's notice a second time, and the remem- 
brance of the gratification which it gave will arouse the mind to attend 
with increased energy to the object which had previously imparted so pleas- 
ant an experience. In the recollection of that experience, and with the 



§176. THE PKODUCTS OE SENSE-PEECEPTIOX. 20? 

hope of its renewal, it renews again all its energy of perception. The re* 
suit is a definite remembrance of every thing which the man is competent 01 
prepared to know in respect to it. When the attention is solicited again ; 
the mind at once responds to the call, withdraws its divided or distracted 
activity, and, according to its sense of the value of the good to "be 
enjoyed, responds with an energetic and attentive gaze. Each new look 
reveals some new property or feature unknown before, and with it comes 
some new enjoyment, the recollection of which stimulates to renewed 
attention, till the soul is satisfied that all that can be known and all that 
can be enjoyed has been exhausted.' By this time, however, the object has 
been so attentively considered that it cannot be lost. 

The same law operates in the apprehension of things, or of many percepts 
This as true of united in one. Let it be supposed that the perception of these in their 
percepts 5 ** ™ ° f re ^ at i° ns gives special pleasure, and the same result will follow as in the per- 
ception of single objects. The mind that is delighted by a masterly combi- 
nation of sounds, or a blending of colors, or mixture of tastes, or contrast of touches, will 
repeat the perception of these combinations with increased interest and increased attention. 
The perceptions gained by the energies thus stimulated, will be certain to remain. 

If the percepts are gained by different senses, as in those combinations which we call 
things or objects, the same law will hold good. 

It often happens that the objects which solicit our attention excite no special interest in 
themselves, and yet some feature or features in them attracts the attention, because of some 
relation to objects in which we are especially interested. Thus, a hundred faces in a crowd, a 
hundred trees in a wood, a hundred horses in a drove, remind us of nothing about which we 
care. "\y"e give to each and all an uninterested glance ; there is no energetic perception, and 
of course no definite impression. None are noticed, and all are forgotten. 

But if a single one pleases us, because it brings up the thought of any object which it is 
pleasant to think of ; if it even attracts our attention sufficiently to inquire whether it is like 
or unlike that which it is pleasant or unpleasant to remember, we shall so attend to that one 
as to retain what our perception gives. 

eSnSUThe § 176, (*•) Repetition is still more essential to enable the 
andc e m°fexof> e mm< ^ to unite into a whole the separate parts of objects 
i 8Cts - which cannot be grasped by a single act of perception. The 

examples already cited, belong to those objects which require but a single 
act of attention in order to be completely possessed by the mind. There 
is a very large class of objects, however, which consist of too many parts 
to be known by a single effort of perception. These must be combined 
together into one, by successive acts. For example, if we perceive a 
mathematical figure with a very irregular and complicated outline, it is 
necessary that we view it in separate portions, in order to master the 
whole. Not only is this true, but we often need to review each portion 
which Ave have already perceived, in order to connect it with the part which 
was previously perceived. After we have followed the outline by repeated 
acts of observation, we need often to review the whole, as a whole, by a 
vapid succession of acts, or by a single glance of the eye, to unite the sev 



204 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 1V6- 

eral parts. If we look at a painting, we study its several parts, perhaps 
for hours together, in order to gain and carry away a distinct and satisfac- 
tory impression of the whole. If we look at the front of an edifice that 
is elaborately adorned, we follow the several features one by one in their 
order, often returning upon our course, that we may retain the percep- 
tions which we have gained. 



. , The office and the necessity of repetition in all these cases are peculiar, and 

Some objects are . .,,.__ „,., 

beyond the natu- require special explanation. We observe, first, that m the cases supposed, 

Boil. 11111 * 8 ° f the tne ob J ect is t0 ° extensive to be perceived by the mind in a single act. There 
are spatial and numerical limits to the mind's power to perceive distinctly. 
If the object within this limit is very simple, it may be mastered by a single effort. But if it 
is complex, and consists of many separable or distinguishable parts, it becomes necessary to 
use repetition, not because the space is too extensive to be distinctly perceived at a single 
effort, but because the number of objects is too great to be separately contemplated together 
by any single act. 

T1 _ But why must the observer give a second look to the parts which he is compe- 

tion often a mere tent to observe at a, single glance — for example, to objects within a limited 
ery and selec- space and of small number — and often many repeated looks, in order to unite 
tioa - them into a completed impression ? Why must the eye run again and again 

along the outline of an irregular and extended boundary, or over the face of a large edifice, 
before it can fix and carry away a definite impression of the whole ? The general answer to 
the question is, that it must do this for two reasons : first, in order that it may seek out and 
discover what it can find ; and second, that when it has discovered what is there, it may deter- 
mine what it will select as worthy of those efforts of attention which are requisite for a com- 
plete and permanent perception. The first efforts of the eye upon such an object are like 
voyages of discovery or movements of military reconnoissance. They serve the same pur 
pose as the use of the finding-glass of a telescope. The eye runs hither and there with a 
vague and quickly-shifting gaze. It finds one feature after another which excites its interest 
and attracts its attention, and thus learns in a general way what material is present for it to 
work upon. After this preliminary work, a second and still another look may be required, 
that the mind may determine which of these parts it is worth while to unite together into a 
continuous and connected whole, by successive acts of attentive perception. That this view ia 
correct, is manifest from the difference which we notice between observing a complex object 
when seen for the first time, and when it has become familiar by repeated acts of perception. 
If the object is new and strange, we must view it again and again in order to bring away any 
distinct perception. If it is familiar, or like a familiar object, a single and hasty look is often 
enough to secure a clear and permanent knowledge. In such a case we know beforehand 
what we expect to find, and to what points we need to direct the eye in order to assure our- 
selves. If parts of the objects differ slightly from those previously perceived, or those which 
we expect to find, these are noticed at once, and the new perception is corrected accordingly. 
In the other case, we do not know beforehand what we are to find, and we must use repeated 
efforts in order to determine what there is to be found, and what we will select as worthy of 
preservation. 

When the object contains a greater number of parts than we can grasp at a 
complex obiccte single view, there is need of repetition for another reason. Let the outline 
require repeti- f a mathematical figure be made up of many sides, or the face of an edifice 

consist of a very great number of salient features, and it is impossible — let 
cither be ever so familiar — that they be perceived distinctly by any single effort of percep- 
tion. The eye must pass around the outline, or sweep across the face by successive acts, and 
master each portion in detail, in order to perceive the whole so as to recall it. Such objects 



§177. THE PRODUCTS OP SENSE-PERCEPTION. 205 

are perceived in parts under the law of natural limitation to which, the senses are subject 
They must be recalled by successive acts, because they can be recalled only in obedience to 
the laws of those relations under which they are originally perceived. To fix these connec- 
tions, attention is necessary. In order to know what these relations are to which it is desira- 
ble successively to attend, repetition is required. 

In surveying large objects, or those which are very complex, repetition becomes necessary 
for the double purpose of fixing in the memory the parts of which the object is composed, 
and of so connecting together these parts in a continuous whole, that they can be revived in 
succession, under the laws of association. 

, Here again we notice a striking difference between obiects that are regular 
More frequent ,7s. , , ,.-.., , n 

repetition if the and unitorm, and those which are irregular and multiform. Of two figures 
objects are meg- f gf t y s [ft es ^ \ e ^ one fo e a regular and another an irregular polygon. Let the 
fa9ade of a building be made of similar parts combined after a uniform law 
of recurrence and symmetry ; or let the parts have no relation of likeness, order, or corre- 
spondence. A few repetitions of attention enable us to master the one ; very many are re- 
quired to put us in possession of the other. In the case of the regular object, we first per- 
ceive that the parts are arranged in a certain order which is repeated — either exactly, or with 
inconsiderable deviations. To learn what this order is, may require several consecutive acts 
of close attention. But when this order is learned, and the elements of each group are dis- 
cerned, the mind is in a condition to recall the whole, by its mastery of a single series of the 
parts. If the parts of the object are arranged in no discernible order, especially if they are 
very numerous, they must be apprehended in detail, a few only together. These few must 
then be connected with the adjoining group by another attentive act, and so on till all are per- 
ceived, and the mind is in a condition to recall the whole. 

Fourth condi- § 1 '^' ( 4t ) Familiar objects are readily and rapidly per- 
fuTperceSnS cer7e d- ^ovel or unfamiliar objects are slowly and pain- 
famiiiarity. f u rjy mastered. The fact is unquestioned. The explanation 

of it is furnished by the principles which have been already laid down. 

Familiar objects, either single percepts or combinations of percepts, 
are such as have been often distinguished from others. When the con- 
stituent percepts are familiar, as shades of color, sounds, forms, touches, 
tastes, and smells, the mind is ready to attend to them and to know them 
with little effort, being guided in directing and fixing its attention by its 
remembrance of what it had perceived before, and incited to attention by 
remembered pleasure. If the combination is also familiar — i. e., the union 
of the taste or smell with the color, or the touch with the form — the same 
law holds good. In looking at an individual chair or table which I have 
often perceived, or the aspect of which is familiar, one percept prepares the 
way for the other — the color for the form, the form for the weight ; one 
part for another, as the leg, for the back of the chair or the bed of 
the table ; so that the mind is at once prepared for what it expects and 
readily apprehends what its attention is waiting for. 

But let the object be unfamiliar, we are detained upon its parts in the way already ex- 
plained, in order that we may discover what they are, so far as to decide which, if any, shall 
receive our attention. If a novel piece of furniture is seen, or a new implement, or an edifice 
singularly planned, or a work of art executed after peculiar principles, or if an animal or 
plant of an unfamiliar species or a dress of a new fashion, are presented for our inspection, 



206 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. g 179, 

we find it necessary to look again and again at the object. We must feel our way step by 
step and part by part, to find the parts of which it consists, so that we can recall them. 

8 178. The acts of repeated perception which are required 

Repetition not . , , -i^-i-,., „ 

necessarily rec- m such cases, are not to be confounded with acts of recog- 
nition, or acts of comparison for the purpose of discerning 
similarities or other relations. 

Acts of recognition and of comparison do indeed usually accompany 
these efforts of perception. But though they often facilitate, they do 
not constitute the acts. This is manifest from the nature of the case. A 
single percept, and an object consisting of several percepts, must first be 
perceived in order to be recognized. It must be known the first time, 
or by a first act, in order to be known the second time, or by a subsequent 
act. So, two objects must be perceived, before they can be compared 
and discerned to be similar or alike. 

Recognition and comparison accompany perception, but they are no parts of the act. 
They greatly facilitate the act, but they do not enter into the act itself. Perception is 
developed along with these higher activities. The higher activities, in their turn, stimulate 
and guide the lower. The perceptions of the infant — and often of the cultivated — are lim- 
ited, because the range of its recognitions and comparisons is narrow. But within this range 
they are often more acute and discriminating, because they are concentrated upon fewer 
objects, and are disturbed by fewer distracting questions of sameness or similarity. The 
child and the hunter, the sailor and the fisherman, have sharper and acuter vision than the 
adult and the philosopher, not merely because their organs of sense are in higher physical per- 
fection, but because they are practised upon fewer objects, and the mental force of attention 
is fixed with greater interest, and therefore concentred with greater energy. On the other 
hand, the educated man often sees in the same object, and even with the eye of sense, much 
more than the. child or savage can see, with his acuter bodily organs, simply because his 
wider range of knowledge prepares him to look for more, and to appreciate it when it is pre- 
sented. 

Some psychologists distinguish, perception from sensation thus : ' a sensation, when recognized as 
similar to one previously experienced, hecomes a perception.' So Herbert Spencer : " As there can he no 
classification or recognition of objects without perception of them ; so there can be no perception of them 
without classification or recognition." " A perception of it [an object] can arise only when the group of 
sensations is consciously coordinated, and their meaning understood." " The perception of any object, 
therefore, is impossible, save under the form of recognition or classification." Principles of Psychology, 
§46. London, 1855. 

Morell says : " To perceive a thing, means, first of all, to recognize it ; " and again : " When we come 
to perceive special objects, then it is implied that we not only recognize, but that we also begin to classify 
them."— Introduction to Mental Philosophy, pp. 85, 86. London, 1862. That this is really impossible and 
logically self-contradictory, is obvious from what has been said. Recognition and classification attend and 
assist perception, but they do not constitute the act. It is obvious that this definition would exclude from 
the act of perception-proper, all that is material to it, or by which it is distinguished from sensation-proper, 
viz. : the apprehension of spatial relations and of externality. Neither of these are necessarily involved in 
the recognition or comparison of sensations. The view would limit us to a purely idealist v« f heory. 

continuance of § ^® m (p.) To complete and successful perception, some 
fa? 6 s^TcesS continuance of time is necessary. The necessity for time is 
perception. partly physical or organic, and partly mental or psychical. 

The organic necessity lies in the unexplained and ultimate fact, that in 
order to a complete and definite physical impression upon the organ, thero 



§180. THE PRODUCTS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 207 

must be a continued action of its excitant or stimulus for a brief but 
appreciable period. The eye and the ear, and the other organs, with their 
connected nervous apparatus, must be occupied with that which excites 
them, in order to give a sensation of which the mind can avail itself to 
distinct perception. Indeed, after the stimulant has ceased to affect the 
organ, the sensation, and with it the perception, remains, as is evident 
from the experiment by which we revolve a burning coal so swiftly as 
to perceive a circle of fire. These after-sensations, in many abnormal con- 
ditions of the system, are ludicrously and fearfully conspicuous in their 
effects, and produce spectral illusions and hallucinations in manifold varie- 
ties. All that we need notice here, is the possibility that a sensation may 
continue after its excitant is withdrawn. 

The psychical necessity is obvious from the fact that the mind can 
remit or increase the energy of the organ by its own voluntary agency, 
and that, to exert this energy, also requires time, if for no other reason, 
because the mind acts through and under the laws of its physical organ- 
ism. An increase of energy in a part or the whole of the organism is an 
affair of time, and is often a measure of its lapse. 

In those acts by which several percepts are connected and combined, time is also required. 
If the mind cannot master a single percept "without continued attention, much less can it con- 
nect several under any common relation without requiring an appreciable portion of duration. 
Whenever the mind must not only attain a definite apprehension of the separate percepts, but 
must regard them as related together ; to each of these attainments, and to all united, a con- 
tinued effort is necessary, and a considerable period of duration. 

Jugglers, prestidigitators, etc., perform many of their feats by having acquired 
involve quick- a capacity of rapid movement which does not allow time enough for the 
ment. ° f move " sense-perceptions of lookers-on to respond to the objects. Often they do 

not furnish time enough for the requisite impressions to be made upon the 
sense-organs. Still more frequently they do not furnish time in which perception or intelli- 
gence may perceive the objects in their relations, so as to discriminate, construct, and interpret 
■what the sense-organs respond to. Quickness of movement and quickness of thought are the 
prime requisites for a successful juggler. To this should be added the capacity to divert the 
attention by lively sallies, by sudden gestures, rapid speech, exciting tones, and a bold address, 
as well as skill in inventing the physical appliances of illusion. A man endowed by nature 
with aptitudes like these, who has learned to make them efficient by art, can almost cheat the 
eyes and ears of the soberest and most practised observer. 

8 180. It is in place here to consider the doctrine which is 

Can. we attend .._ , • i i i t\ -i -i « 

to more than one insisted on so earnestly, particularly by JJusrald fetewart 

thing at a time ? , ^, y .. N , , . , . .. 

\±Llements, c. 11.), that the mind, in perception, can attend to 
but one object at a time. This position he endeavors to sustain and en- 
force by examples like the following : In viewing a mathematical figure, 
say of a thousand sides, we view each side by a separate effort of atten- 
tive regard, till we have passed around the outline by successive acts of 
perception. The eye and the mind do this so rapidly, that when the out- 
line is not very complicated, they seem to grasp and master the whole by 



208 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 180. 

a single and instantaneous act. So, in listening to a concert of music, we 
think we hear — i. e. f attentively listen to — all the instruments and separate 
parts together, whereas we in fact can attend to hut one. When we seem 
to ourselves to listen to all, we in fact pass so rapidly from one to another 
as to think we attend to all together. When Stewart is called to explain 
what he means by a single object, he defines it, in connection with the 
eye, as the minimum visibile — that is, the smallest extension of color or 
shaded light by which the eye can be affected. In respect to the ear, he 
ought, by a similar rule, to assert that the minimum audibile, or the sim- 
plest and shortest appreciable sound only, can be attended to at a single 
instant. 

The theory of Stewart labors under the following difficul- 
ste^Stvfiieoi* ^ es : ^ excludes the possibility of comparing objects with 

one another. In order to compare objects so as to discern that 
they are alike or diverse, they must be considered together — that is, they 
must be attentively perceived in combination. We cannot see that two 
surfaces of color are alike or unlike, without perceiving them both in con- 
nection, and perceiving them both by a single attentive act. In the cases 
supposed by Stewart of the several sides of a complicated outline, or the 
separate sounds of the instruments in an orchestra, the parts of the figure 
must be considered together, to be known to be adjoining, near, or re- 
mote : the separate notes or sounds also must be heard together, to be 
discerned to be alike or harmonious, to be known as higher or lower, or to 
be connected as before and after one another. It is obvious that the mind 
can apprehend more than a single object at once. If it could not, it would 
be forever and entirely cut off from the most important part of its knowl- 
edge, viz., the knowledge of relations ; which knowledge can only be 
attained by the apprehension of at least two objects together. 

It may perhaps be said, that what Stewart intended to assert was this : that 
Attention to an in sense-perception the mind can only attend to one object at the same indi- 
imaRc. and ltS y i s ^ e instant ; that in those cases in which it compares two objects, it con- 
nects an object perceived with an object represented, a percept with a repre- 
sentation. For example, in viewing a complex outline, or hearing the sounds of an orchestra, 
it sees at a present instant a single side or the smallest possible part of a side — the minimum 
visibile — or hears a single sound or note, and, while seeing or hearing, compares with it the 
side just seen or the sound just heard before. But in order to do this, it must apprehend at 
the same undivided instant of time both the side which is seen and the side which is remem- 
bered. The doctrine that the mind can apprehend or know but a single object at a single 
instant of time, must be abandoned as incompatible with all the higher functions and acqui- 
sitions of the soul, as well as with the most obvious facts within our experience. 

Tho mind n ^ u * ^ * s n0 * * rue * na ^ m sense-perception even, the mind can 
thatTone thin^ apprehend but a single object at a time. The mind must be 
at a time. ^\ e t apprehend more than one object of sense, because its 

attention is so readily turned from one to another. Among many objecti 



§180. THE PEODUCTS OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 209 

that are equally before its gaze, it singles out one, concentrates all its 
energy upon it, and then suddenly leaves it, fixing on another ; and sc 
passes from one to another with a rapidity that surprises itself. This it 
could not do unless it were able to apprehend many objects by a vague 
perception of their existence. The single fact that the eye can perceive a 
wide extent of space, viewing all parts equally well, compels us to believe 
that this extended object, containing many within its limits, is appre- 
hended by the mind as made up of many parts, and that these parts, or 
single objects, can all be seen by a single act. 

„ . , But can the mind use the utmost energy of attention upon more than a single 

Can the mind 

use the utmost object of sense ? This question, if it could be answered satisfactorily, would 

more^than^ne S ive but little satisfaction to the mind, for the reason that it very rarely hap- 
object? pens that the mind, in perception, employs its utmost energy of attention. 

It scarcely ever happens that single objects, in the sense of minima visibilia, ot minima 
audibilia, are perceived at all. The smallest possible percept rarely occupies the attention. 
Then again, the mind rarely, if ever, puts forth its utmost energy. Attention is an affair of 
degree, which varies with each condition or status of the soul. If, then, it were theoretically 
true that the utmost conceivable energy of attention must necessarily be fixed and concentred 
on the smallest possible percept, the supposed case would never occur in fact. It might be 
true, notwithstanding, that great energy of attention could be fixed on two percepts, or even 
on more than two material things. 

The material point to be decided is, whether the mind can at once apprehend or atten 
tively know more than a single object. This being decided in the affirmative, all other ques- 
tions are of little interest. It is enough that we are certain that objects cannot be effectively 
known except they are known in their relations. To the knowledge of relations, the knowl- 
edge of at least two related objects is necessary. To successful or permanent knowledge,. even 
of relations, attention is requisite. The mind must then be able to attend to more than a 
single object. Inasmuch, also, as by far the most important of our sense-perceptions are con- 
cerned with the union of percepts either of the same or different senses, it follows as highly 
probable, if not as absolutely certain, that the mind can attentively perceive more than a single 
percept. Whether the mind, in the same act of perception, can or usually does attend with 
equal energy to each of several percepts, is a question which might be prosecuted with some 
show of reason. When we view two or more objects together for the purpose of comparing 
them, and strain the mind to its utmost energy, the excess of energy is directed now to one 
and now to another. Both are attended to, but not with the same intenseness. This is ordi- 
narily observed to occur. The mind regards one object with more attention than the other, 
in order that it may receive a vivid and distinct impression of it, and then compares or in some 
other way connects it with that received from the other. Wb.en this is done, the process of 
comparison or connection is complete. This fact or phenomenon has given occasion to the 
unwarranted and impossible inference, that the mind can attend to but a single object at the 
eame indivisible instant. 

14 



210 "the human intellect. § 181 



CHAPTER VIII. 



ACTIVITY OF THE SOUL IN SENSE-PERCEPTION. 

The foregoing analysis of the process of sense-perception into its constituent elements, and its 
successive stages, has assumed that, so far as perception is an act of knowledge, it is 
essentially active. So far as the analysis has shown itself to be correct, so far may it be 
considered as an indirect argument in support of this assumption. The correct doctrine 
in regard to this subject is, however, so important, not only in its relation to the nature 
and the trustworthiness of knowledge in general, but also in its special bearing upon the 
higher functions of the soul, as well as upon a correct theory of the nature of the soul 
itself, that it deserves and even requires a separate discussion. Inasmuch, also, as the 
special form and results of perception depend very largely upon what are called the 
active powers of the soul, viz., the appetites, the emotions, and the will, we embrace 
within our discussion a recognition of the influence of the springs of action upon the 
intellect. For this reason we have adopted for the title of this chapter, ' the activity of 
the soul in sense-perception.' 

8 181. The impression is very common, that the soul, in its 

Sense-perception " ...,. n ... 

held to be pas- sense-perceptions, is simply receptive of material objects — 
that it passively receives or submits to whatever impressions 
are imprinted upon it from without, exerting no active agency of its own. 

By many, this impression is stated as a positive doctrine, which is consistently carried out 
into all its logical inferences and applications. Thus Kant and his disciples, as well as many 
psychologists not of his school, assert that the soul, in sense-perception — as indeed in all the 
intuitions of consciousness — is simply receptive, while in the higher functions of thought it is 
self-active. So far is this doctrine carried, that a distinction is made between the forms of 
intuition on the one hand, which are called receptivities, and made to pertain to the passive 
nature of the soul, and the forms of thought on the other, which are supposed to belong to 
the soul's active energy. 

Psychologists of the materialistic school, and many who are not materialists, but are more 
or less influenced by forms of expression and habits of association that are borrowed from 
materialistic theories, not only assert that the mind is passive in its sense-perceptions, but even 
in the higher activities of imagination and thought. Locke often inadvertently expresses him- 
self in language and by illustrations and analogies borrowed from the physics of his time. 
Condillac not only makes all sensations to be impressions imprinted upon the tabula rasa, 
but makes all ideas, or the intellectual copies of sensations, to be simply ' transformed sensa- 
tions.' With him agree in principle the ideologists of the French school. The schools of 
Beneke and Herbart in Germany, as also Herbert Spencer and his disciples in England and 
America, all formally accept and positively teach the same doctrine, or unconsciously assume 
it to be true in their theories and discussions. 

The grounds on which these theories and assumptions rest 

Grounds on ,,>-,-,• m , ,. . n , 

which the theory are the following : 1. I he general misconception of. the 

nature of the soul, and the powers and laws of its working, 

by which it is invested with material properties, and interpreted by mate- 



§ 183. ACTIVITY OF THE SOUL IN SENSE-PEECEPTION. 211 

rial analogies. This misconception has been already explained and dis 
cussed sufficiently, and needs no further elucidation (cf. § 25). 

2. The unquestioned fact, that the soul, in sense-perception, appre- 
hends and acts by means of a material organism, and has to do solely with 
material objects. This fact cannot be disputed. It is not surprising 
that the inference should be derived, that that which acts by means of 
matter as its instrument, and upon matter as its object, must itself, at 
least in these classes of its activities, follow the laws of matter so far as 
to be capable of action only so far as it is acted upon, and to depend on 
matter not only to arouse it to action, but for the degree of energy to 
which it can be excited. 

3. The soul is known to be entirely dependent on matter for the 
objects which it perceives. It cannot perceive any material object when 
the object or stimulus does not exist. Moreover, the efficiency of the 
material organ or instrument which it employs, depends on the material 
conditions which are required for healthful and vigorous activity. 

That the soul is § 182. ^* e mam tain that in sense-perception the intellect is 
active, is attest- active, and for the following reasons : The soul, in sense 

ed oy conscious- ' o ? 

ness - perception, is known through consciousness to be active, 

and in a special sense to be self-active. To perceive by the senses, is only 
a special form of the soul's general capacity or power to know. To 
know, is not to receive or suffer an impression, but to be certain of a fact ; 
and whatever may be true of the objects which are known, or of the 
instrument or conditions by which these objects are brought within the 
reach of the mind's activity, these do not in the least affect the nature of 
the activity itself. So far as this function is exercised, the soul is simply 
self-active, and as truly so as in those higher functions in which the 
objects and conditions of this activity are only spiritual (cf. § 46). 

To know, is not only to be certain of existing facts or realities, but it is also to apprehend 
these facts in certain relations. The facts or beings known differ somewhat in their nature in 
different kinds of knowledge ; in the case of sense-perception, these beings are material. The 
relations apprehended differ according to the kind of knowledge ; to the knowledge of matter, 
a limited class of relations only being essential. But knowledge is knowledge, whatever may 
be the nature or extent of the facts or relations which are involved and required. To appre- 
hend the existence and the. relations of sense-objects, must of necessity be an intellectual act, 
and it may involve an active process. It cannot be conceived or defined as a state of passive- 
ness or receptivity only. Its conditions may involve reception and suffering in some stage of 
the process. The preparation of its objects may involve the subjection of the sentient organ- 
ism, and of the soul which animates it, to material forces and laws ; but the acts or processes 
by which the objects thus presented are known apart or are united, are active, and active only. 
They cannot be conceived as any thing besides. 

deveiopldbyde 1 - § 183 * ^ nat tne sou ^ * s actrve m sense-perception, is evident 
varying^erfeS ^ rom ^e following facts, most of which have already 
tion - been noticed. The power of the intellect to perceive any 

objects of sense is developed by degrees in the mind of the infant, and. 



212 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 184. 

after it is fully developed, is exercised at different times and by different 
persons with a greater or less degree of energy. Different persons also 
acquire, by special discipline, what may be called a special power to per- 
ceive certain classes of objects ; which special power is exercised with 
varying energy and effect on different occasions. The rapidity and per- 
fection with which this power is or can be exercised, depends on the 
energy of attention with which it is applied to its objects. Now, atten- 
tion is a varying condition of activity, and is possible only of those states 
which deserve to be called the active, in distinction from the passive con- 
ditions of the soul. If the soul can attend in its sense-perceptions, it 
must be active in them. 

..!■'.,.. „ The infant begins to perceive when and so far as it begins to attend. So far 

Attention the ; , « , . , , . 

condition of sue- as we can judge from observation, or can remember by looking back over 

ress. a pr ° s " our own childhood, or are authorized to infer from analogy, we conclude that 
the soul of the infant is at first in a condition in which sensation greatly pre- 
dominates, with only the feeblest exercise of intelligent perception. The infant at first feels 
many sensations, but it can scarcely be said to know objects at all. In other words, it only 
perceives, with the lowest activity possible of a power undeveloped by exercise. It is only when 
its attention is aroused and its power to know is acquired and fixed, that it is properly said to 
perceive. Its attention is first limited to the objects of a single sense. One after another, 
each of the senses is awaked to action, and, as each is aroused, the mind seems to bestow for 
the time the whole of its energy upon the world which a single sense unfolds before it. It 
studies light, it studies colors, it studies forms, it studies sounds, it studies touches. Soon, in 
connection with the movements of its body, it learns to apprehend the relations of space, viz., 
position, distance, and dimensions. It then gathers its percepts together, locates them to- 
gether or apart, attaching them to their appropriate places or objects. Then it uses one class 
of percepts in place of another, or as signs of distance, size, etc., in all the varieties of acquired 
perception. 

As the mind passes through each of these stages of its early development, it concentrates 
its energy upon definite and appropriate objects. Upon the infant's eye, as physically recep- 
tive of light, color, and form, the same landscape is painted as that which is mirrored on the 
eye of the man ; but how much more does the man perceive than the child. Sounds, smells, 
and tastes solicit in vain the apprehension of the one, which are answered by the quick per- 
ception of the other. Or, if they are distinguished by each, to the mind of the one they 
indicate far more than to that of the other. The one perceives in them the various wealth 
of signification which they suggest ; to the other, they signify nothing. 

Differences in § ls4 * As rea ^ an ^ as great a difference is to be observed in 
oAhe^^and tae perceptions of different men and in those of the same 
of different men. men at different times. We suppose that the power to per- 
ceive is fully developed in each, and notice the difference which is made 
by the energy and direction in which different individuals exert the power 
at any moment. Two persons look out upon a landscape, but how much 
more does the one behold than the other. One sees countless objects 
which the other entirely overlooks — houses, trees, lawns, lines of beauty, 
contrasted and varying colors, artistic groupings, none of which are ob- 
served by the other. Numberless sounds await the notice of each. One 



§185. ACTIVITY OF THE SOUL IN SENSE-PERCEPTION. 213 

hears, the other fails to hear the crowing cock, the sharp report of the 
rifle, the rattling and rumbling of distant vehicles, the cawing crow, the 
singing of birds. The same is true of the percepts of taste, smell, and 
touch, though in a manner and to a degree less striking. (Cf. " Eyes and 
No Eyes," in Evenings at Some.) 

A striking difference is discernible by every individual of himself in the perceptions wbM 
he forms of the same object at different times. In a certain mood, through listlessness, a few 
objects attract a feeble notice, or secure an answering regard. At another time, the wakeful 
eye and mind gather in from the same field, before so barren, a myriad of percepts that had 
remained unnoticed. They throng in upon the excited and aroused attention with surprising 
rapidity and profusion. Even when the mind is most wakeful, much is left unperceived, from 
want of time or interest. We might spend hours in gazing into a single tree, and not exhaust 
its wea&h of material. After viewing an extensive landscape closely for hours, when we turn 
from it, we leave behind and unseen far more than we have perceived and brought away. 

Facts like these prove decisively that perception is more than the passive recipience of 
imprints from without — that it involves an active cooperation from the spirit within. They 
show that each man's perceptions are what his own activity makes them to be — that they are a 
product of the excitements furnished by material nature and the mind's own energy. 

8 185. The methods in which the soul exerts its energy are 

Different modes « ^ oj 

of this activity, various. The soul imparts special energy to single organs, 
the organs. so that they perform their functions with more than usual 

efficiency. It does this by determining a flow or excitement of the nerv- 
ous power to the eye, the ear, or the hand, thereby rendering each capable 
of a more vivid sensation. This process and this effect are both called the 
innervation of the organs. It is accomplished, in all probability, by the 
medium of the reflex or efferent nervous organism. Whatever may be the 
physical or physiological medium by which the effect is produced, its cause 
is psychical ; the soul itself is the originating agent. 

This innervation of a single organ or pair of organs is observed in cases like the follow- 
ing : The eye rests listlessly or wanders vaguely over a landscape or a crowd of men. In a 
moment it is fixed by some single object, perhaps through some physical stimulus, as a bright 
light or glaring color ; perhaps by something attractive only to the feelings. The curiosity is 
aroused, and stimulates the organ to do its utmost. Under the innervation of the agent of 
vision, the picture which had before been painted dimly on the retina, is suddenly lighted up 
as though a new force of sunlight had poured upon the object a fresh illumination. In a simi- 
lar way, the soul can awaken the ear to more distinct hearing, by summoning its physical 
capacities to do their utmost. ' Did you hear that shriek ? ' says one man to another. The 
ears of both are made attent at once, and are physically excited, to catch even the feeblest 
sound, as well as mentally to interpret its meaning. 

That the soul possesses and uses this power, is evident still 

Partial suspen- in i . -, • 

cion of certain further from the fact, that, in order to increase the energy 

organs. . 

of single organs, the mind is often forced to suspend the 
action of the others. We close the eyes, that we may hear distinctly a 
doubtful call, or mark the faint ticking of the clock, or do full justice to 
the skill and power with which a superior singer manages delicately 



214 THE HUSIA^ INTELLECT. § 187. 

shaded sounds. We find it difficult, and sometimes impossible, to give 

full effect to two of the senses at the same time. We cannot at the same 

instant read the degrees from a measuring scale, and listen to a musical air 

8 186. The mind exercises its activity in its sense-percep 

The attention °. '_'.-.". '."" " . . ,. . , , « 

tees upon select- tions, by directing its attention to a limited number of sense- 

2d objects. . . 

objects, and neglecting the remainder. 
The mind, as we have seen (§ 176 ), in one act of apprehension can be 
occupied with only a few objects, whether they are objects of sense, or 
psychical creations. To do justice to those objects, so as to bring away 
distinct and vivid images of their being and relations, requires that they 
be exclusively before the mind. If they are exclusively present, other 
objects must be excluded, shut out, and neglected. We have also seen 
(§179), that, in apprehending objects of sense, an additional reason for 
this exclusive occupation is found in the fact, that a prolonged occupation 
of the organ with its object is required in order that the physiological con- 
ditions for a definite impression may be fulfilled. The fact is unques- 
tioned, that the mind does both admit and shut out the objects of sense 
by its active efforts. 

If we notice and follow our own processes id sense-perception, we shall observe that we 
are constantly employing our energies in this twofold way. When, for example, we listen to 
a full orchestra, we may single out the fife, and follow its shrill piping with a distinct and 
delighted apprehension of the melody, in spite of the crashing masses of sound that assail the 
ear from trumpet, trombone, and drum ; or we trace with rapt and absorbed devotion the 
silver threading of the leading violin along its sinuous course ; or we combine into a single 
and almost exclusive impression the sounds which the stringed or wind instruments make 
together ; or we give the ear to a single part as rendered by its appropriate agents, soar- 
ing and floating with the air, or inspired by the animating tenor, or gravely sympa- 
thizing with the bass, leaving, in each instance, all the other parts unheard. The power of 
the mind not to perceive or not to notice, is illustrated by examples like the following : The 
miller does not hear the sounds from his own mill, while the visitor can hear nothing else. 
The factory operative does not notice, and therefore is not disturbed by the whir of the spin- 
dles and the clash of the looms. He can speak and hear with entire freedom, while the by- 
stander can do neither, from the distracting and deafening din. 

Activit shown § 18 ^* ^ ne activity of the mind in sense-perception is still 
in selecting and further illustrated in the great variety of acts and processes 

combining sense- . 

objects. which we are distinctly conscious that we are compelled to 

perform, in order to create percepts and images which we can carry away 
and retain. These acts and processes are acts of selective analysis and 
constructive synthesis, by which the soul chooses for itself the objects 
which it will separate and remember as distinct objects or things. These 
objects, when formed and made familiar, can be recalled and recognized 
by the memory, and recast by the imagination. They people the 
dream-world, they crowd upon the phantasy, they illustrate general con- 
ceptions, etc., etc. 

When we are confronted with an object wholly strange and new, we 



§188. ACTIVITY OF THE SOUL IN SENSE-PERCEPTION. 215 

often find ourselves making distinct efforts in studying it part by part, and 
then still others, that we may unite the parts together into definite prod 
ucts. Ev r en when the eye is introduced to a new landscape, it first runs 
with rapid glance along the horizon, resting here and there upon any point 
or feature which invites a prolonged or second look ; then it sweeps hither 
and thither, crossing its track as often as need be, searching out whatever 
may attract its gaze. After having thus constructed the outline of the 
picture, it leisurely paints in the details one by one, till the whole is fin- 
ished, and it can carry away the remembrance of it as a single object ; or 
perhaps it divides it into separate portions, and treasures in the memory 
cabinet pictures of selected parts. But how much does the most careful 
and active observer overlook ! How little does he notice and remember 
of the grace and beauty which is spread out before him ! How much is 
hid and overlooked, to the most attentive and the best-trained eye ! How 
much is reserved for after-efforts ! 

The recognition A recognition of the activity of the mind in perception is of the greatest 
of this activity . 5 J A as p + * 

important for importance to a rjght conception of the nature and conditions of acts of 

of imitation mem ory and imagination. The mind can re-create by the representative 
and memory. power only what it has first created by the power of perception. The mem- 

ory and imagination can recall and reshape no more of the objects of sense than the percep- 
tive power has shaped and fixed and carried away for the service of both. The acquisitions 
of the memory and the reach of the imagination do not depend so much upon the number of 
objects which we have perceived, as upon the manner in which we have perceived them. It is 
not merely what is brought to the notice or within the reach of the senses, but what the mind 
actually and effectually so works upon as to place it at the service of the power to recall and 
re-create. This we know to be true in fact, by experience and observation. There are times 
when we seem to perceive the greatest number of objects, and with the most excited interest, 
and yet of them all we can recall but a few, and these but vaguely. The wealth of material 
sometimes wearies and distracts the power to appropriate it. 

Why this should be so, will be fully explained when we consider the conditions and laws 
of the representative faculty. A general statement of these reasons may be thus expressed : 
The secondary activity of the mind in recalling or re-creating must depend on its primary or 
original energy in perceiving and acquiring. The action of the mind in remembering and 
imagining is wholly spiritual and subjective. It would seem that its conditions and laws must 
be found in that element of sense-perception which also is spiritual and subjective. 

This activity in §188. The activitv of the mind in sense-perception is re- 

eelection and . _ . . . 

combination quired in early life to separate the mass of perceived or per- 

shown m early . , , . , . ,,.. ,. ,., 

life. ceivable material into the distinct objects which are appre- 

hended and named by men of average intelligence. 

We have already seen that the work of thus uniting different percepts 
into distinguishable wholes is performed to a great extent before the time 
when we can distinctly remember. To the infant's eye the whole world 
of perceivable matter, so far as it is perceived at all, is perceived as a 
single whole, or one undivided object. The apartment within which it 
tries its first experiments of activity is literally a universe ; the walls, the 
oeiling, the table, the chairs, all blending together in a total impression. 



216 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §188, 

This whole is soon divided into parts. Those objects which are readily 
moved, are first separated and viewed apart by a natural and necessary 
process ; those which are fixed and stationary are afterward divided to a 
limited extent, according to accident or individual caprice, but more com- 
monly by certain considerations of convenience, that are universally recog- 
nized. The chair, the table, etc., etc., are easily known as separate 
objects, because they are often moved, and thus, as it were, broken off 
from the* rest of the apartment. At a later period, the floor, the ceiling, 
the walls, and other immovable objects are so distinguished as to be 
recognized and named as diverse and separate objects. 

To accomplish and perfect this work of construction and separation during infancy and 
childhood, there is required the repeated application of the attention to distinguish the parts, 
and of combination in order to unite them into wholes. In these efforts the mind exerts its 
spiritual activity, as is evident from the fact that one mind performs its work far more rapidly 
than another, thereby showing that what is perceived depends on the quickness, energy, and 
sagacity of the individual. One mind does this with greater perfection than another. Its 
discriminations are more subtle, its combinations more exact, and its interpretations more 
sagacious, even upon such objects as apples, oranges, chairs, tables, horses, and dogs. These 
differences may not appear in the application of the common names of common things, but 
the perceptions and the percepts of the two, as mental acts and products, may be very 
unequal. 

The process which is slowly acquired in infancy and childhood, and with 
The same activi- unequal perfection and dissimilar results, is continued in mature life. The 
matureUfis! d ^ mm< *» when adult, is governed by the same laws, and follows the same 

methods which controlled its processes in infancy. A multitude of objects 
every instant solicits its attention. It perceives those, and those only, to which it yields that 
attention. It enlarges the circle of its perceptions by those only which it subjects to its 
power. Those which necessity, convenience, pleasure, duty, or an active curiosity excite us to 
regard, receive our notice, and are soon familiarly known to the mind. But the greater por- 
tion of that part of the visible and tangible universe which is within the range of our organs, 
is to the majority of men almost entirely unperceived ; it is the unexplored background, against 
which the few familiar objects are projected. Out of this material more observant and 
curious eyes are continually shaping new creations. But what each perceives is what each 
individual so creates and shapes that it carries it away as a permanent image. In this work of 
active construction, the intellect is busied, from the first essays of unremembering infancy, to 
the most mature and exact observations of unforgetting manhood. It begins this work with 
detaining and repeating the perceptions of a single sense. After mastering and securing the 
products of each of the senses in their turn, it proceeds to unite them into completed wholes, 
fixing and familiarizing the relations of form, of distance, and of relative position, till the 
mathematical eye and the mathematical touch are severally perfected, and trained to act in 
unison. In this way the perceptions of familiar objects, one by one, are formed and fixed. 
They are, at the same time, more clearly distinguished from the perceiving mind itself as the 
non-ego. The more compactly they are, so to speak, crystallized into separate existences, the 
more sharply are they contrasted with the percipient mind, and the more boldly do they 
project into that relief which is possible by the relations of space. These processes are per- 
petually repeated till the end of life, greatly facilitated in respect to ease and precision 
by the acquisitions of earlier years, but never ceasing to be repeated upon the unwrought 
material, which the percipient mind creates while it perceives, and perceives no further than it 
creates. 



§190. ACTIVITY OF THE SOUL IN SENSE-PERCEPTION. 217 

8 189. This activity of mind is more conspicuous in the 

Differences in ° . J . . r 

special activities diversity of the sense-perceptions which are reached by dif 
ferent men as they advance in life, or differ in their employ 
ments and culture. 

A single general example may illustrate the diversity of perception ir 
which all these causes exert their influence. Let two men together inspect 
a complicated machine or engine ; let the one be a person of average 
knowledge and experience, and the other an accomplished engineer : how 
much more will the one perceive in the engine than the other. Before 
the practised eye, each separate part takes its appropriate place, being 
sharply distinguished from every other, the dividing surfaces and con- 
necting members being all discerned at a glance, and all these separate 
portions being bound into a complete and symmetrical whole. To the eye 
of the uninstructed person, however keen may be his physical vision, there 
is neither whole nor parts, but a confused and bewildering impression. 
The difference cannot be accounted for by any physical defect or excel- 
ienee in the organs of vision, but only by the previous mental and intel- 
lectual training. But these do not enable the person to dispense with the 
use of the organs of vision. They do not themselves perceive. They 
simply direct the use of the organs in such a way that distinct perceptions 
are gained by the one person, while of these perceptions the other fails 
altogether. 

These intellectual conditions are the result of the mind's own energy, and the fact that 
they are needed is most convincingly demonstrated by a multitude of similar cases. The sharp 
but uninstructed eye of the child or the savage looks out listlessly upon the stars ; the reflect- 
ing eye of the astronomer groups them in figures, threads them upon lines, and arrays them in 
mystical curves. The mechanic perceives much that every other man overlooks, and the 
objects which each mechanic perceives, or, as we say, has an eye for, depend on the particular 
trade to which he has been trained. The same is true of the architect and of the painter. It 
might, perhaps, be thought that the activity which is exerted in all these cases is an activity of 
the fancy, of the memory, and of thought, and that it is improper to speak of it as an activity 
of sense-perception. It is true that there is an activity of fancy and memory which attends 
and often precedes this special activity of sense. But if the memory and the fancy are first 
aroused, their action determines and decides what is perceived by the senses ; it directs and 
holds the attention to their appropriate objects, and so enables the mind to master and retain 
them as permanent possessions. 

Th t S dfd ity tif" § 19 °* "^ follows from these truths, by a necessary inference, 
uiatedbythein- that the mind's activity in perception, and its mastery over a 

terest felt in the J L *■ . J 

object. greater or smaller number of objects, must dejoend very 

largely upon the interest which these objects excite. In other words, the 
feelings and the character affect the accuracy and the reach, and of course 
the permanence of the sense-perceptions. The eye sees and the ear hears 
the objects which the soul desires and delights in. It is not easy for the 
mind to perceive that which it dislikes to contemplate. On the othei 



210 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 192, 

hand, the objects which our interests, our profession, and our tastes 
prompt us to attend to, we discern with surprising readiness. 

The eye that is sharpened by the lust of gain, detects objects and qualities to which the 
less interested observer is totally blind. The ear that is quickened by expectation or terror, 
can catch the sound of deliverance when all other ears are deaf. The hand that palpitates 
with hope or fear, can apprehend delicate monitions of good or evil, which the stranger would 
not notice. The living soul, as intellect, sensibility, and will, is present in the acts of every 
sense, and largely determines the report which each shall make of the material universe. 
What a man is, is exemplified in what he perceives. His tastes, his sense of character, his 
moral resolves and aims in life — all these are expressed in the quality and the quantity of the 
sense-perceptions which he creates and stores up from the infinitude of wealth which is spread 
out before him in the material universe. 

8 191. The activity of the soul in sense-perception, it has 

This activity is a ° J ■ . . . r _. r 

limited and de- already been observed, is a limited activity. The process of 

pendent activity. . . ._ . * 

sense-perception, m its widest significance, includes passion 
and receptivity as well as action and construction. We do not deny the 
first when we vindicate the last of these correlated elements. The soul, 
cannot, by its creative energy, make that to be a mountain which is a 
cloud. It cannot make that to be, which in reality has no existence. It 
can, however, judge a mountain to be a cloud, and perceive a cloud when 
it might and ought to see a mountain (§ 48). The energy and direction 
with which it applies the power of knowing goes very far to determine what 
is perceived, how vividly, how perfectly, and how correctly. Nature must 
do her part in bringing the objects within the reach of the percipient. 
The sentient organism must be in a normal condition to secure the sensa- 
tions to which the mind has become familiar, and on which it has been 
accustomed to rely in its acquired judgments, as it interprets the signs 
which nature presents. But when these conditions and indications are 
provided, the mind, by its own activity, determines what it perceives, 
whether it perceives vividly or faintly, how completely it masters and 
retains the parts of the object, and how correctly it interprets and com- 
bines together its elements and indications. 

8 192. The activity of sense-perception, though it is an activ- 

Is elementary, ° ._. . r , n v, , 

and easily exer- rty of knowledge, is yet the most elementary of all these 
activities, and the one which is most easily performed. In 
one aspect it is the lowest in the scale in respect to its dignity and dis- 
ciplinary value. It is the least intellectual of all the intellectual acts. It 
is performed with great ease and with surprising perfection by the infant. 
All the manifold processes of combination and judgment which it involves 
are executed with the greatest rapidity, at the very earliest age, and by 
persons of the least cultivation in the higher discriminations of the intel- 
lect, and apparently of the very lowest capacity for such cultivation (cf. 
§147). The habits and aptitudes which are the result of these efforts seem 
to be more completely controlled by association; to displace and almost to 



§ 193. ACTIVITY OP THE SOUL IN SENSE-rERCEPTION. 210 

defy reflection more entirely than is true of the higher activities and 
applications of the intellect. That some activities and processes of the 
intellect are capable of being more readily performed than others, is 
an original fact of our being. It can only be accepted as a psychological 
fact, which, to our knowledge is ultimate and inexplicable (cf. § 54). But 
though this fact cannot be resolved by any higher or more comprehensive 
psychical or physical law, it is readily explained by the still higher rela- 
tions of adaptation and design (cf. § 612). 



SENSE-PERCEPTION : SUMMARY AND REVIEW. 

§ 193. (1.) The processes involved in sense-perception, as our analysis has shown, are by 
no means simple. The product, when complete in a perceived material object, is in its con- 
stituent elements and relations more complex than is usually believed. 

"We will briefly review and recapitulate the several steps of the process and the elementa 
of the product. 

(2.) Sense-perception is an act of knowledge by means of sensations and the sense-organs. 
As the term indicates, the act implies two elements, which are distinguished as sensation and 
perception ; more exactly as sensation-proper and perception-proper. These are distinguished 
in thought, but not separable in fact. The act of consciousness by which we know the process, 
separates these elements by an analysis of thought, but connects them by a synthesis of time 
relations, as constituting a single and instantaneous psychical state. They are distinguished 
in the relation of dependence, but are united as instantaneous in time. 

(3.) Sensation, or the sensation-element, is known still further : First, physiologically, as 
dependent on the excitement of the sensorium, in whole or in part, by some physical excitant 
or object. The sensorium is a collective term for the nervous organism and the sense-organs 
conjoined. This organism, animated by the sentient soul, acts as the agent or instrument of 
the several sensations. How it is fitted thus to act, we do not know. What there is in its 
nature which renders it capable of responding, as it does, to the impressions or excitements 
which it suffers, we cannot explain. We know that each class or portion of the sentient 
nerves is capable of a special sensation, and so far is idiopathic. In order to produce it, the 
excitement or impression must usually be applied to the nerve-endings, in the sense-organs. 
A class of exceptions to this rule is found in the effect upon the nervous filaments of electric 
and chemical action, of pressure, of certain morbid and abnormal bodily conditions occasion- 
ing what are called the subjective sensations of light and sound, and perhaps of taste. 

(4.) Second, 'psychologically considered, sensation is a more or less positively pleasant or 
painful experience of the soul, as consciously animating and acting with an extended sen- 
sorium. The sensations are in this respect sharply distinguished by the soul itself from the 
desires which attend them, as well as from the purely spiritual emotions. "When the soul is 
said to be conscious of its sensations, consciousness cannot be used in the technical sense of a 
direct cognizance of purely spiritual acts or states, but of a direct or intuitive cognizance of 
this peculiar experience. It follows that the several sensations, inasmuch as they are expe 
rienced by the soul in its connection with the extended sensorium, must be indefinitely but 
really separated from each other by distance and place. 

(5.) Perception, as an act of the mind, is subjective and objective ; as subjective, it is dis- 
tinguished by several steps or processes. As objective, it apprehends some being. The result 
is a product, or the object as known. 

Subjectively viewed, sense-perception is distinguished as original and acquired^ or simph 
and complex, and as direct and reflex. In original or simple perception, the mind knows the 



220 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. g 193 

single percepts which are appropriate to single organs of sense. In acquired or complex per- 
ception, it connects these with one another under a variety of relations. In direct perception, 
the relations used are those of extension and diversity ; in indirect, those of likeness, causa- 
tion, and design are also employed. 

Objectively viewed, perception always knows a material non-ego. But the objects of sim- 
ple and complex perception are unlike. 

(6.) In simple or original perception, the object is & simple percept — i. e., an extended non- 
ego. But the term non-ego is equivocal, being capable of three distinct meanings, correspond- 
ing to the three distinguishable egos with which they are contrasted. These are the following : 
(1.) The perceiving agent as a pure spirit ; (2.) the percipient agent as a spirit animating an 
extended sensorium ; (3.) the individual as spirit, sensorium, and body. The three non-ego» 
contrasted with these are : (1.) The sensorium in excited action, distinguished by the soul from 
itself as a pure spirit ; (2.) the body perceived as other than the sentient soul — i. e., the soul 
as animating the sensorium ; and (3.) the material universe as distinguished from the soul, 
sensorium, and body — i. e., from the man as soul and body united. 

(7.) In original perception, the object directly apprehended is the sensorium as excited to 
some definite action. This is distinguished from the soul as percipient, by the soul's own act 
of discrimination. In other words, the ego and non-ego contrasted are the first named above. 
This non-ego is the percept appropriate to each of the sense organs. 

Some contend that there are but two organs and two forms of direct perception — those 
of touch and sight ; the senses of smell, taste, and hearing, giving sensations only. 

(8.) Indirect or acquired perception first combines single percepts into material wholes or 
objects, by referring them to the same portion of space. The first experiment is made with 
the body itself, the perception of which the soul completes, knowing it within and without. 
This gives the non-ego in the second sense. Other percepts it proceeds to combine and con- 
struct into other bodies, by processes of comparison, measurement, and induction, after the 
analogon of the body which the soul inhabits. These are distinguished from the body itself, 
giving the non-ego in the third sense, the distances, forms, sizes, etc., being assigned by the 
various processes of judgment, which are usually called acts of acquired perception. 

(9.) Later still, the intellect knows the percepts thus united as substance and attribute, 
when it connects the objects with the sensations which they excite under the relation of 
causality, or compares one object with another under the relations of form and dimension. To 
do the one, the material object must be compared with the sentient soul, by an act of reflexive 
analysis, both being projected into the mind's field of view. To do the other, motion, measure- 
ment, and analysis are required to separate length, breadth, size, and form, from the things to 
which they pertain. Recognition, generalization, and other acts of the higher intelligence 
greatly stimulate and aid this activity, but are not essential to it. Many, not to say all, of 
these acts of acquired or indirect perception are acts of natural and unconscious induction, 
which, like other such acts, must assume in the objects known adaptation to the mind that 
knows them ; in other words, must assume design and order in the universe. 

When the material object is known in these elements and relations as a product familiar 
to the mind, the process of sense-perception is complete. 

(10.) When, moreover, consciousness is so matured as to distinguish the soul's spiritual 
acts and emotions from its sensations and their objects, then the non-ego is distinguished from 
the ego in the first sense required, and all the relations of matter to the spirit, which are 
objects of common observation, are attained and made familiar to the intellect. 

(11.) In the process of sense perception the state of the intellect is active, and active 
only. It is a form of that knowledge, by which beings and relations are cognized as real. 
This activity is intimately allied to the higher processes of which it is the essential condition, 
and like them is directed by the emotions and the will, which together with the intellect maky 
up the endowments of the conscious soul. 



§194. THEOKIES OP SENSE-PERCEPTION. 221 



CHAPTER IX. 



THEORIES OP SENSE-PERCEPTION 

The summary and review with which the preceding chapter concludes, presents in brief the 
theory of sense-perception which is taught in this volume. It seems desirable, in con. 
nection with it, to give a brief historical survey of the several theories which have been 
held by others. Such a sketch will prepare the student to understand the difficulties of 
the subject, as well as to appreciate the successive advances which have been made toward 
an explanation of the very difficult problem which these theories have undertaken to solve. 
It may also be useful in preventing the reader from too readily accepting the materialistic 
and physiological solutions which are urged so confidently as being the latest and the 
most satisfactory. The history of the earlier speculations serves to show that these solu- 
tions are neither so recent nor so rational as their advocates contend. 

§ 194. All philosophers have undertaken to give some theory or explanation 
lese theories of the perceptions of sense. These perceptions are among the most striking 
Live . and interesting of all phenomena, and would naturally attract the attention of 

all inquisitive minds. They vary in uniformity with the changing condition 
of the bodily organs, and of the objects and media with which these organs are concerned. 
For this reason, men of philosophic tastes would be prompted to devise some theory to explain 
how and why these perceptions so often change. 

It is not strange that these explanations have always been derived from the 
Determined by generally received opinions or philosophical theories concerning the forces 
philosophy. ' and laws of nature, and the powers and laws of the human soul. As the 

sciences of nature and of the soul have been continually changing, one theory 
of sense-perception has given place to another. False or defective theories of nature and the 
soul have, by a necessary consequence, involved false or insufficient explanations of the pro- 
cesses of sense-perception. 

On the other hand, erroneous theories of sense-perception have, by a reflex 

Their reflex in- influence, affected to a very large extent the philosophy of the soul. It is 

fluence often 

mischievous. natural that it should be so. The acts and instruments of sense-perception 

are the first to attract attention, and to challenge and receive some sort of 
explanation. The explanation given to these processes would naturally be extended to the 
other and higher activities. The conditions and laws of sense-perception would readily be 
taken as the types of all the intellectual processes. Whatever theory were adopted in respect 
to the nature of sight and hearing, would be extended to memory and the imagination. It is 
not surprising, therefore, that these theories have occupied so large a place and exerted so 
powerful an influence in the history of psychology and of speculative philosophy. 

Theories of sense-perception are especially liable to be erroneous, from the 
Why especially circumstance that they involve so many elements. The processes are them- 
roneous. selves most complicated, involving, as they do, corporeal and psychical 

agencies. The corporeal element is in part material, and requires a correct 
knowledge of matter, and the distinction between that which is organized and living, and that 
which is inorganic and dead. In order fully to understand the processes of sense-perception, 
we must know their conditions or media ; this involves a correct, if not a complete, knowledge 
of such agents as light and sound. A grossly erroneous theory of either might vitiate our 
theory of the psychological processes of sight and hearing. The scientific knowledge of these 



222 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §195* 

agents and their laws includes assumptions both mathematical and metaphysical, which may be 
correct and complete, or erroneous and defective. 

The instruments of sense-perception are the bodily organs ; and to understand these organs 
we must not only have a correct theory of the living organism, but also of its relations to the 
rational soul. The psychical element in perception is also complex. The consideration of 
perception as a special act or kind of knowledge, requires some just views of knowledge in 
general. A serious error in respect to this fundamental point would, by a logical necessity, 
involve mistake or defect in respect to every form of knowledge. The element of feeling ia 
also present in sense-perception in what is called bodily sensibility, the correct theory of which 
involves just views of the nature of feeling in general, and of the relation of feeling to knowl- 
edge. Any theory concerning a process which involves so many elements is necessarily exposed 
to error. That which we should expect would be true, we find made real in fact. In the 
various theories of sense-perception which are so prominent in the history of philosophy, the 
errors and defects are to be traced to some false assumption or oversight in physics, physi- 
ology, or metaphysics, or in all these sciences combined. 

Theories of sense-perception are, to a great extent, theories of vision. This 
More usually is not surprising. The phenomena of vision are the most prominent in our 
ion. experience, and the most attractive to our attention. The organs of vision 

are more complicated than those of any other sense, and at the same time 
more easily separated into their component parts. The necessity and the functions of some 
of these parts are obvious to the most casual observer. Every question which can be asked in 
respect to any of the perceptions, presents itself in connection with the phenomena of vision ; 
so that a correct theory of vision would necessarily be a correct theory of sense-perception in 
general. As might be expected, the theories of sense-perception which are recorded in the 
history of philosophy, are, for the most part, theories of vision, and the illustrations and 
examples of the power of sense-perception, its actings and its laws, are almost universally 
drawn from the power of seeing with the eye. 

§ 195. "We begin with, the theories of the earlier Greek philosophers. In these there 
is very little to interest or instruct us, except as they serve to illustrate the causes 
•nh'l 6 f) L " °^ error ' an< * *° show us the beginnings and germs of almost every one of the false 

theories which deform and mislead modern speculation. These are all alike, in not 
sharply distinguishing the soul from the body, and scarcely from inorganic matter, in 
respect either of essence or functions. The first effort of philosophy was to resolve all agents and all phe- 
nomena—beginning with those most obviously material and mechanical, and terminating with the most 
spiritual and free— into some single element, as original and all-pervading. "Whether all spirit was in 
effect resolved into matter (as by Democrilus and the Atomists), or all matter was sublimated into spirit 
(as it seemed to be by Diogenes of Apollonia), the elements of each were the same in essence, and the 
differences in operation and phenomena were matters of combination and degree. 

One of the best examples of the current modes of explaining the phenomena of sense- 
perception is furnished in the theory of Diogenes of Apollonia. The soul, according to 
Ano^fonia ° bim ' is a more highly refined, drier, and warmer air or vapor, differing from other 
agents and beings in this only, that its element is purer than theirs. Sensation and 
sense-perception occur when outward objects set in motion the organs of sense, and, 
through them, the air which, as the soul, pervades every part of the body. This explanation, in princi- 
ple, does not differ from that of those modern psychologists who resolve sense-perception into vibrations 
of material agents without, which excite finer and quicker vibrations in the nervous organism, the charac- 
ter of the sensation being conceived to depend on the frequency and rapidity of these vibrations. (Cf. 
LocJce, L. George, J. D. Morell, A. Bain, etc.) 

Heraclitus accounts for sensuous knowledge by making the inner fire of the soul to 
unite with, or, in modern language, to respond to the outer fire of the universe. This 
Heraclitus and explanation is but a consistent application of the general assumption that fire is the 
'inpe oc es. or i g inal element in all forms of being. Heraclitus was more conspicuous as a meta- 

physical philosopher than as a psychologist. 
Empedocles of Agrigentum is worthy of notice, for two or three reasons. lie was the first, according 
H> Hitter, who introduced the distinction between sensuous and divine knowledge— who taught that tha 
impressions of sense must be corrected by the notions of reason. It was an axiom with him in explaining 



§196. 



THEORIES OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 223 



sensuous knowledge, that like can only be known by its like. This assumption pervades the great major* 
ity of the theories of perception down to the present moment ; and, as we have seen, it is with the great- 
est difficulty that the mind can rid itself of its influence. (Cf. Hamilton, Works of Beid, p. 300, note.) 
In conformity with this view, he seeks to show that sense-perception can only be explained by our knowl- 
edge of the composition of the body perceived, and of the forces which act upon it. The objects of sense 
send off certain effluxes, dn-oppoicu, from their surface, whiclr.pass into the human body through pores 
[provided in the several organs]. The blood in the vicinity of the heart constitutes the human intellect ; 
and in whatever part of the body this blood is properly mixed and refined, there is superior skill and dex- 
terity, as in the hand of the mechanic, and in the tongue of the orator. 

Vision is explained by Empedocles (cf. Aristotle, De Sensu), in his poem on the Nature of Things, 
by the doctrine that the eye is composed of fire, the noblest of the four elements— if, indeed, Empedocles 
did not hold that fire was the master-element. Fire produces vision by radiating from the eye, as light is 
emitted from a lantern. The reason that this fire is not extinguished, is that it is defended by the watery 
coats of the eye, which act like the sides or walls of the lantern. 

Democritus was the first conscious and avowed materialist, resolving, as he did, all the 
different kinds of being, with their phenomena, into combinations of atoms, differing in 
Democritus. size and shape. He taught that the soul differs from the body, by being composed oi 

finer particles, constituting, as it were, a finer body inclosed by the grosser and the cor- 
poreal. All sense-perceptions are occasioned by contact. In modern phrase, all the 
senses are resolved into the sense of touch. That which is brought in contact with the soul is not, how- 
ever, the material object; but its eiSwAov, or image, being detached from its surface, reaches the soul by 
passing through the pores of the organ of sense. The elSwAov and the a7roppo»j were nearly the same, 
unless the an-opporj was used to emphasize the material element, and the cifiwAov that which is subjective 
and spiritual. The nature and signification of either do not seem to have been held with greater intelli- 
gence and precision in earlier times than the corresponding terms [as image, representation, species] and 
conceptions are employed and understood in modern philosophy. At one time they were used in a sig- 
nification simply and grossly material ; at another, as the product of the combined activity of the spirit- 
ual and material. (Cf. Ritter, vol, i. F». vi. c. ii., note.) 

From Democritus, Epicurus borrowed the notion of effluxes, simulacra rerum, which he conceived in 
the grossest form — viz., that they "are like pellicles flying off from objects ; and that these material like- 
nesses, diffusing themselves everywhere" in the air, are propagated to the perceptive organs. In the 
words of Lucretius : " Quse, quasi membranse, summo de corpore rerum dereptse volitant ultro citroque per 
auras." 

It does not follow, however, because the surface, or its elSwXov, must always be touched in sense-por- 
ception, that its form and size, or the form and size of its particles (in modern phrase, space-attributes or 
relations), are what are perceived. "What is perceived through the contact of an el'SwAov, of certain par- 
ticles, are not these atoms, or their space-relations, but a semblance or subjective result which they give ; 
c. g., the white which we see in its eiSo>Aoi> is simply a smooth surface, and the black is a rough surface. 
Yet these surfaces, as seen by us, are seen as white and black. 

§ 196. The philosophers of the Socratic school [Plato and Aristotle] recognized the 
doctrines of their predecessors to some extent, either to expand or refute them. They 
The Socratic ma de important additions to the philosophy of previous times in respect to the theory 
of sense-perception, as well as to the doctrines of general philosophy. The doctrines 
of Aristotle and Plato, and even the terms which they employed, can be traced among 
philosophers of every age since their time ; and they still reappear and exert their influence among the 
most recent schools. Aristotle especially gave the law to the schoolmen, from whose teachings the modern 
theories have retained many traditions. Plato is still appealed to and quoted by his admirers for his elo- 
quent and just psychological discriminations, even in respect to the theory of sense-perception. 

Plato taught very distinctly and emphatically, especially in his Theatetus, that sensa- 
tion [proper] is an effect jointly produced by the force, motion, or action (<£opa) of 
Plato. the material object and the sentient agent, and that it varies, of course, with this joint 

activity ; that the sensations of no two sentient beings need necessarily be the same, 
under the same material conditions at the same time ; and that the sensations of the 
6ame being, from the same object at different times, need not be the same, but may vary very greatly. 
Sense-knowledge, aio-flijcri?, is therefore untrustworthy, illusive, and, it may be, deceptive. "With this he 
contrasts the higher kind of knowledge, r\ emo-rynr), viz., that which is rational and intellectual— the 
knowledge of ideas, or of objects in their ideas. Thi3 knowledge, in its subjective character, is certain 
and satisfactory ; in its objects it is permanent and fixed. These views were not matured by Plato into 
a detailed scientific theory, nor have the Platonists ever succeeded in thus perfecting them. The great 
deficiency of these theories has been, that they have omitted to explain how this changing and in pari 
subjective material [the sensation proper] is related to that which is fixed and trustworthy [the perception 
proper]. They have therefore served rather to excite inquiries, than to meet and answer them. 

In the Timseus, Plato uses the similes, if he does not adopt the theory of Empedocles, and explains 
the process of vision by the excitement of the fiery nature of the eye by the fiery nature of visible objects. 



224 • THE HUJIAH INTELLECT. § 196. 

Whether lie intended this as a gravely-held physical or physico-physiological doctrine, or as a mythical ol 
lymbolical assertion, it may not he easy to decide. 

Aristotle urges against this doctrine of Plato and Empedocles, that vision cannot he 
produced hy the radiation of light from the eye ; that, if it were true, we could see in 
Aristotle. the darkness, without the aid or instrumentality of the light. Against the view that it 

is caused by influences or emanations that stream forth from visible objects, he insists 
that such an agency would require an appreciable period of time for effective action. 
Against the assumption that had been accepted in many of the theories that were propounded before his 
time, he urges that there are but four elements, while there are five senses ; and it cannot therefore be 
true that each sense-organ consists of a single element. He does not, however, wholly reject the doctrine 
of Empedocles, that like can only be perceived by its like ; for he concedes that each one of the senses is, 
in its elementary constitution, akin to the element which it perceives— water being the chief element in 
vision, the air in hearing, the sun or fire in smell, the earth in touch and in taste. In critically examining 
the theories which had been held before him, and setting aside much in them that was untenable, Aris- 
totle rendered a very important service to the psychology of the senses. 

"We find in Aristotle also the beginnings of the attempt to consider apart and to distinguish the intel- 
lectual act of perceiving on the one hand, and the physical conditions or media by which objects are 
actually perceived. 

In respect to vision, he made a great advance upon his predecessors, in teaching that visible objectr- 
do not act directly upon the eye of the percipient, but through a transparent agent or medium. When 
this medium is in action, there is light ; when it is inert or at rest, there is darkness. When mixed with 
opaque substances, as in material objects, there is color. In the eye, this medium must be present as the 
condition of vision ; because the light, being the active condition or state of the medium, can occur in no 
place where the medium is not present. Vision cannot be a result of fire within united to fire without, 
but a result of the excited medium without, which is propagated to the medium within. This medium, 
which conditionates the light, exists more commonly in the form of water, and also in the form of air. 
How nearly the doctrine of Aristotle approximates to the modern theory, that light depends on the undu- 
lations of an invisible ether, will be readily recognized. 

Aristotle taught, also, a doctrine of the refraction of light. Of this refraction the transparent medium 
spoken of is susceptible when it appears as water and air. Refraction weakens the light, and color 
results. This refraction occurs within the substance of the eye as really as elsewhere ; but Aristotle 
ascribed no agency to this refraction in the production of the images of external objects. There is no 
evidence that he knew of the image upon the retina. 

Indeed, in respect to the construction of the eye, he made little advance upon his predecessors, and 
knew little or nothing of the discoveries made by modern anatomy and physiology. The only observation 
which he records is scarcely worth noticing. It was, that the eye can produce light within itself— i.e., be 
the recipient or product of subjective sensations (De Insomn. c. 2, 3). This phenomenon he accounts for 
by asserting that the eye can divide itself into two parts, one of which is the producer, and the other the 
recipient of the light. 

The other senses require a medium as truly as does vision. The medium is in every case set in 
motion or brought into action by the perceived object, and is tiius made capable of acting upon the 
appropriate sense. It would seem, at first, that in the case of touch no medium is required, but the 
percipient is itself the body or flesh. More careful observation shows that, as the perception [sensation) 
varies with the changing condition of the flesh, the flesh must, as the medium, be distinguishable from the 
percipient, notwithstanding that they coincide in occupying the same space. 

In respect to the construction and offices of the remaining organs of sense, Aristotle taught little 
that is worth reciting. The ear is the organ of sound, because it encloses air, which is immovable unless 
it be agitated by exoitement from without. The organs of both touch and taste are in the region of the 
heart ; and as smell is nearly allied to taste, the same is true of this sense. 

All perceivable objects are extended, but their essence, as perceivable, does not consist in their being 
extended, but in a certain relation or proportion which they bear to the percipient. The extended object 
has the power to act in a particular way, and the percipient, in like manner, the capacity to be acted 
upon ; the joint product or result of their coaction is the perception. This product varies indefinitely, 
according as each related term varies— i.e., as is the relation of the one term to the other. But the direct 
and proper object of the perception is not the extended object as such, but the sensation which result* 
from the joint action spoken of. 

Objects, to be perceived, must have a proper size, neither too small nor too great. 

In respect to the intellectual element in sense-perception, the element which we have 
,_ . . ,, . 1 called the discernment, or the discrimination, of relations, Aristotle is not clear and 
element. explicit. Now, he asserts that in perception, neither truth nor error are possible, but 

that these can only pertain to the higher powers of the soul. Again, he calls the power 
a judging faculty. The phenomena and products of sense-perception, he shows most 
clearly, have an element which does not pertain to the purely and properly intellectual powers; but ho 
does not explain the element which both have in common. In this he gave the example for the confusion 



§ 197 THEORIES OP SENSE-PERCEPTION. 225 

and defect of clearness which have prevailed from that day to the present. On the other hand, he asserts 
most clearly, and gives great prominence to the fact, that the objects of sense are individual, while thoso 
of the intelligence proper are general. This distinction is of the greatest importance. In seeming, how- 
ever, to limit the functions of the intellect to the apprehension of general objects only, he apparently left 
no place for the action of the intelligence in perceiving objects of sense. 

Aristotle held that there is a common percipient or sensory, by which the several sen- 
The common or sations are measured, judged, and united together - . Each separate sense apprehends its 
sensory percipi- owa object, as the eye color, and the ear sound ; and each apprehends or discerns its 
cut. object correctly. That which is common to all objects are these five : motion, rest, 

number, size, and form. The seat of this common sensory or common percipient, is 
the heart. This power combines and separates the percepts appropriate to the several senses, and pre- 
pares them, so to speak, for the phantasy and the memory, both of which are activities of the common 
percipient. The rational soul, the Nous, apprehends the general and the permanent. As contrasted with 
this Nous, i. e., the higher or the rational being, that which is properly the active energy, all the lower and 
antecedent powers are collectively called the passive or the affective. In many of these distinctions Aris- 
totle fixed the divisions and definitions not only for the schoolmen, but for modern psychology. 

The doctrine that objects are not themselves perceived, but their species or perceptible 
forms, was initiated by Aristotle (De An., B. ii. c. 12). As the wax receives only the 
Matter and form, impression or image from the device on a seal-ring, and not its matter, it making no 
difference whether the ring is gold or iron, so is the perception by each of the senses. 
What is received, is not the matter of the object perceived, but that which it effects in 
conjunction with or in relation to the percipient. This is its form— to elSos, species. What was intended 
by this form, was variously interpreted by the Greek commentators, Simplicius and Themistius contend- 
ing that the percipient is the bodily organ, which received a corporeal impression ; and Alexander Aphro- 
disiensis and John Philiponus that it was a mental power, which, by perceiving, gained a mental impres- 
sion or form. The last were doubtless in the right. (Cf. Hamilton's very valuable Notes, Works of Reid, 
pp. 827, 881 ; Metaphysics, Lee. xxi. vol. ii. pp. 36, 37, 38 ; Am. ed., pp. 292, 293.) 

The distinction between matter and form or species, was transmitted, through the successors of Aris- 
totle, to the schools of the Middle Ages, and became an hereditary and perpetual text for controversies 
and discussions, not only in respect to the nature and validity of the sense-perceptions, but of the objects 
and processes of our higher knowledge. These controversies have not yet terminated, nor have the terms 
over which they have been fought been laid aside. Matter and form are as fresh and living as ever in 
some of the modern schools. 

§ 197. The most of the schoolmen retained in substance the distinctions and the doc- 
trines of Aristotle, making such advances upon them as were to be expected from 
The schoolmen. active disputants and well-trained dialecticians, who employed their energies almost 
exclusively in defining more precisely what they supposed their great master intended, 
or in devising new inferences from the materials and data which he furnished. They 
discovered no new facts hitherto unobserved, and made no new definitions or discriminations either on the 
physiological or the psychological sides of sense-perception. 

The schoolmen were not exclusively the followers of Aristotle. They were influenced more or less by 
the doctrines and the terminology of Plato. 

In respect to the medium of perception, they held, in general, with Aristotle, that such a medium is 
required for every act of perception, both when the object is in immediate contact with the organ of sense,, 
and when it is not, but seems to be in contact with it. 

In respect to the organ of sense-perception, their views did not differ materially from his. They had 
a better knowledge of the parts of the eye, but no acquaintance with the image formed upon the retina, 
nor of 'the facts or laws of refraction and reflection. Of the constitution of the other organs they knew 
still less. 

The doctrine of the necessity and agency of species in sense-perception was prominent 
in the theory of the schoolmen, and their views may be summed up in the following 
Their doctrine propositions : Objects are not and cannot be directly and immediately perceived, but 
only their species. The reasons given were the following: The object often is plainly 
not in contact with the sentient organ. It is also in its nature unlike the sensitive soul, 
and therefore cannot affect it. Every thing known must be in the knowing agent ; but it is impossible 
that this should be true of the object. It can only be true of its species. Experience, moreover, provea 
that the image or species only is perceived. "When a stick is thrust into the water, it is seen to be bent or 
broken. A change in the medium changes the object perceived. Our perceptions of the same object vary 
at different times. 

But the species is not a material entity or efflux. At least, it was not so regarded by the mor$ pro- 
found and intelligent. It was scarcely possible, however, that it should not be treated as a material 
entity, and so have prepared the way for the grosser doctrines of the intermediate representative image. 
The species is not perceived, but only the object through or by means of the species. And yet the epe« 
"ies so far forth represents the object, that when it acts upon the organs cf sense, it moves or excites th* 
15 



226 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §199 

percipient to discern, by its means, the object itself. Some of tbc schoolmen taught that these species 
had some spatial relations — that they existed in every part of space, bridging over, by a continuous series, 
the interval between, or binding together the object and the sentient. 

The species directly produced was called species intentionalis, or intentional species. Of these there 
were as many of any single material object as there are separate sense-organs, each species being appro- 
priate to and dependent upon the joint action of the organ and the object. They were called intentional, 
because by means of them the mind tends or reaches directly toward or to its object. " Appellator aulem- 
intentionalis quia per ipsam sensus tendit in objectum." Er. Eustachii Summa Phil, quadripartite/. '•'•Ac per 
medium trajicientes tetenderint, ex quo etiam vulgo intcntionales appellantur." Gassendi, Be Sensu, p. 337, 
ed. 1C58. " Ut proinde intelligamus turn suo fungi munere sensum, cum agit, seu intenditur in rem objectam 
eamque ccgnoscit." Gassendi, De Sensu, 329. As the intentional species were present to the first or direct 
perceptions, a second species, the species sensatx, or species of the second intention, were present to the 
common sense, the fancy, and memory, each of which had its species, and all of which prepared the 
rational intellect to construct the species intelligibiles, which are the last attainment of the higher intellect, 
and are alone the objects of our higher and valid knowledge. A difference was made between the species 
impresses and the species expresses. The species impressse were material and sensible, so called because they 
were impressed by objects upon the external senses. They become intelligible by the elaboration of fhe 
active intellect, and are thus prepared to be received by the passive intellect. They are called expressss 
because they are expressed from the impressed species, and it is by the species expressse that the passive 
intellect knows external objects (cf. Malebranche, Search after Truth, B. iii. part 2, chap. 2). 

A few among the schoolmen rejected the doctrine of sensible and of intelligible species. Among the 
most conspicuous was "William of Occam, who was led, by the boldness with which he urged the doctrines of 
the Nominalists, to reject also the doctrine of sensible species. His doctrine was expressed in the follow 
ing thesis : " In sensu exteriori, sive accipiatur pro organo, sive pro potentia, non imprimuniur aliquse species 
necessario prseviee primes sensationu" (Cf. Haureau, De la Phil. Scholastique ; Rousselot, Etudes sur la 
Philosophic dans le moyen age; Summa Philosophix quadripartila a Er. Eustachio d Sanct. Paulo; H. 
Hitter, Gcschichte der christl. Philosophic) 

§ 198. Erom the schoolmen to the moderns, Gassendi represents the transition period. 

He dared to question and to break from the authority of Aristotle, and the opinions 
159^-1655 "' receive( l by tradition from him. On many points in psychology he follows Epicurus, 

but not so far as to deny the spiritual nature or the essential immortality of the soul. 

In respect of sense-perception, he taught the scholastic theory, except that he rejected 
the doctrine of species in all its forms, after a careful discussion. 

§ 199. It was Descartes, however, who made a permanent inroad upon the philosophy 

of the scholastics, and introduced the modern science of psychology. He prepared the 
Hq S ^jlf -(f' " K "' wa y f° r tne distinctions and discussions in respect to sense-perception which have 

played so important a part in modern speculation. The doctrines of Descartes which 

we need to notice are the following : 

1. Descartes drew a sharply-defined line between spirit and matter in respect to both essence and 
phenomena, and of course distinguished clearly between the soul and the body. 

Previous to his time, the soul was regarded as the crown and consummation of the body. Those 
who held to the spirituality and immortality of the spiritual being, asserted a separate and separable nature 
only for the vovs, or the higher soul. Many had taught that this higher nature was a distinct substance 
from the lower; that the rational soul was a distinct being from the vegetative, sensitive, and fantastical, 
all of which were supposed to be so far functions of or dependent on the body, as to perish with it. 

Descartes, on the other hand, was the first to teach that spirit, in all its modes of being, is distinct 
from matter, and is proved to be such by its peculiar and distinctive phenomena. The essence of matter 
is extension ; the essence of spirit is thought. He asserted that we have a clearer and more certain 
knowledge of the existence of spirit than of that of matter. Of the first, we are directly conscious. "We 
cannot doubt that we think, for, in the very act of doubting, we think. Concerning matter, it is possible 
to suppose that there is no reality corresponding to our ideas (cf. Meditationcs, etc.). 

This doctrine of Descartes opened the way for an entire separation between matter and spirit, and, in 
consequence, for doubt or uncertainty in respect to the validity or trustworthiness of sense-perception. 
It allows us to raise the question, or rather it forces us to ask, How can we be certain that our sense-per- 
ceptions deserve to be trusted at all ? how can we discriminate between those which are trustworthy and 
those which are not ? 

2. All the affections of the body, being phenomena of matter (of which the essence is extension), can 
qnly be resolved into positions and motions of its parts in space. Hence all those changes in the organs 
of sense by which we perceive must be changes in the relative positions of their parts. Such changes are 
wrought by the action of the external object on the organ, and are taken by the spirit as the signs or indi- 
cations of attributes of external objects. "Whatever these attributes are, whether sounds, smells, tastes, 
touches, or sights, they are only known to the spirit by the changes which they effect in the parts of the 
organ of sense. They are knowablc and arc known by the motions and positions which are conveyed 
from these organs to the brain. 



§199. 



THEORIES OF SENSE-PEECEPTION. 227 



3. The medium by which they are conveyed was held to be the animal spirits. These were a highly 
subtle fluid, invisible to the eyes and imperceptible by any of the senses, which were supposed to b« 
secreted from the blood, either by the glands, the liver, the heart, or the brain, and to be so mobile and 
expansible as readily to fill all the vessels and passages of the body. By the animal spirits the body is 
nourished, the life is maintained, motion is imparted, and sense-perception is performed. They serve a3 
the instrument of sensation, by producing in the brain [conveying] changes corresponding to those occa- 
sioned in the Organs of sense by the action of the object perceived. "When these changes are thus con- 
veyed or produced, the body has done all its work preparatory to the sense-perceptions of the soul. This 
work of preparation being done, the soul perceives. 

But the soul does not, by a second or internal sense-perception, apprehend the last of these series oi 
mechanical changes wrought in the brain, as though the soul were endowed with another interior appa- 
ratus of sense. How it becomes aware of these changes in the brain is not explained by Descartes ; nor 
how, when these changes are made known to it, they serve as indications or signs of qualities in material 
objects. Descartes never asserted, as did some of his disciples, that these changes served as representative 
ideas— that in vision, the image on the retina, or its results' on the brain, served as a copy or reflected pic- 
ture, which was compared with the object itself. On the other hand, he held to the doctrine of a repre- 
sentative idea, in the sense that, on occasion of the apprehension of these changes, the mind had sense- 
perceptions of objects. As the schoolmen held that ly or through the several species, the soul perceived 
objects, so he held that through or on occasion of these mechanical changes, excited and propagated 
through the corporeal machine, the soul apprehended the objects of which these were the indications or 
signs. John Baptist Porta first discovered, in 1583, that the eyeball is a camera obscura, but he thought 
the lens received the image. Kepler corrected the error, in 1604, by showing that the retina formed th/? 
image. Scheiner, in 1652, was the first to take the coat from the back part of the eyeball of several ani- 
mals, and to show sharply-drawn images actually depicted on the retina. Descartes was bom 1596, and 
died 1650. 

It ought never to be forgotten, that the body is regarded by Descartes simply as acting like a machine 
in all its functions, even those of sense and motion. Indeed, he calls it a perfectly contrived machine, and 
insists that all its most subtle processes, even those most withdrawn from the possibility of direct inspec- 
tion, might be fully explained by a finer arrangement of mechanical powers. In entire consistency with 
this view, he contends that animals are nothing more nor better than machines, and are incapable of any 
psychical experiences or processes. As soon, however, as the rational soul, -whose essence is thought, is 
united with the body or the man-machine {homo machina), it uses its mechanical adjustments as instru- 
ments of sense and motion. It connects one sensation with another, by means of the contemporaneous 
occurrence of the bodily motions appropriate to each. "When a part of the body is bruised or burned, it 
learns to apply the requisite motions, beginning in the brain, and reaching in a series to the parts affected, 
which ensure its withdrawment from the offending cause. By the arrangement and extent of these brain 
changes do we judge of the size, distance, position, and other attributes of external objects of which they 
are the indications. "We see one object with two eyes, just as we touch one object with two sticks ; the 
apprehended motions in the brain, (serving a similar office to the double muscular sensations with which 
we hold the two sticks), make the two sticks feel one object. But it is not explained how the soul is capable 
of knowing the last movements of the machine, or how it reads the index in the brain. It is true, 
Descartes supposed the seat of the soul to be a small gland in the midst of a small cavity at the centre of 
the brain. To the plexus of tubes and interstices which constitute the walls of this cavity, the animal 
spirits bring the last changes which correspond to each sense-perception of material objects, and by the 
changes effected in these walls they carry the orders of the soul. " Hanc glandulam esse sedem animz 
primarium atque organum imaginations sensusque communis." Renati Cartesii Tract, de Horn. But 
though the cavity is represented as " a presence-chamber" — and it would seem as though the soul, from 
its central seat of observation, must gaze upon the reports or images that are pictured so rapidly upon its 
walls— yet this is not the doctrine of Descartes. True to his principles concerning the nature of spirit, 
he asserts that, as it occupies no space, and its modes have no relation whatever to the modes of extended 
matter, the connection between the two is the result of the simple appointment of the Creator. All that 
we know is, that with these motions of the bodily machine the perceptions and movements of the spirit are 
connected. 

4. All sensations are purely spiritual affections, being, in his language, " modes of thinking," or of 
thought, which, in its nature, has no relation whatever to extension. The sensation of pain which wo 
refer to the foot, is simply in the mind ; the sensation of color which we refer to an external object, is in 
the mind only ; it is neither in the eye nor in the picture to which we ascribe it. 

That we refer these sensations to such objects, or locate them in any part of the body, is the result 
of the habit of confused thinking which we contract in early life, and of the prejudices and associations 
which arise at that period. But when we resolve our knowledge into clear and distinct ideas, we find theso 
opinions to be false, and that our sensations properly belong to the mind alone. 

5. The soul, in its sensations, is purely and simply passive ; even in its inclinations and desires, which 
•re functions of the will, it is passive. 

6. The diversity in the qualities of the sensations is owing to the diverse motions of the body whicl 



228 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 199 

occasion them. They are painful, when the fibres of the muscles and other organs are irregularly moved 
and strained. Pleasure attends their easy and harmonious action. These are stated as general facts, 
which are derived as inferences from assumed principles. Why one kind of motion or action should give 
^ain, and another pleasure, is not explained. 

7. Besides the inherent capacity of the soul to know its own affections, and its superadded power ot 
becoming apprised of the affections of matter through the motions of the body, Descartes taught that 
the soul is also furnished with innate knowledge or beliefs : such as the belief that God exists, and i3 
all-perfect; that every quality belongs to a substance, and every event is produced by a cause. The 
criterion of truth and falsehood was thus assumed : Clear ideas we know to be true : Ideas that arc 
confused, are false. By the application of these axioms and this criterion, several problems or questions 
m respect to sense-perception were readily solved. 

8. The perception of extension by the soul is not explained in respect to its subjective process or its 
objective elements. It seems to have been included by him in the assertion of the soul's divinely-given 
power to know matter, that it should know its relationsto extension. That these ideas are real, is shown 
by this, that they are the clearest and the most distinct of any. 

9. Material objects are known as external to the soul by the following process : The soul finds itself 
affected with certain sensations, or modes of thought.. They are known not to be caused by the soul's 
own agency. Under the axiom that they must be referred to a cause, the mind believes in the existence 
of material objects as the external causes of its own sensations. 

It would seem, however, that this process would only give negative knowledge to the mind, or the belief 
that there are existences which are not spiritual. We must suppose that the mind already knows extended 
being with its relations to space, in order that it may conclude that their non-ego is also extended. 

10. We confide in the indications of the senses, because we believe that God is too good a being to 
allow us to be deceived, or to bring objects before our senses in such a way as to make deception possible. 
That God is good, we know with innate certainty. Hence we confide in the truth that the ideas of sense 
correspond to the reality of things. In this confidence we reject the suggestion that all that we seem to 
perceive is only an unreal show. "When we occasionally fall into error, it is because we do not heed the 
monitions and correctives which the Deity has provided. 

These are the principal doctrines of Descartes. They contain the germs of the most important 
truths and the seeds of the most pernicious errors and oversights of modern psychology. As Descartes 
deserves the praise of having given being and form to this science in its modern phases, he also must bear 
the reproach of having opened the way for the mistakes and defects which have retarded its rapid growth 
and hindered its healthy development. There is scarcely a theory of senserperception in which some 
erroneous assumption of Descartes may not be traced, and which has not wrought some influence for evil. 
Geulincx, a distinguished disciple of the school of Descartes, applied one of his funda- 
mental doctrines as follows : Inasmuch as the essence of matter is extension, and the 
Gculhicx, 1G25- essence of spirit is thought, it follows that one of these agents can in no way act upon 
1899. the other, neither matter in imparting sense-perceptions to spirit, nor spirit in giving 

motion to matter. In every instance in which either sensation or motion occur, the 
Deity must intervene by direct agency, and produce the effect. Inasmuch, however, as, in the order of 
actual events, sensation and motion always occur in connection with a material object, or a precedent 
spiritual impulse, or, in other words, as, in fact, every perception recuires some form of extension, and 
vice-versd, each holds to the other the relation of an occasional cause — i. e., each is the constant occasion 
on which the Deity exerts His active energy. 

Leibnitz, at a period somewhat later, reasoned as follows : Matter and spirit cannot act upon each 
other, it is true ; but it is unworthy of God to suppose that He interferes on every occasion in which a mode 
of one coincides with a mode of the other. Therefore God has arranged from eternity a presstablishcd 
harmony, according to which the one never occurs without the other. 

Malebranche applied these assumptions in the following manner : Matter and spirit are 

in no way related. In perception, the spirit does not perceive the material object, but 

lGSS-ulo 10 " 16 ' ideas of it. These ideas are not the substantial forms of the schoolmen, nor material 

effluxes proceeding from matter. In sense is perpetual error. These errors can only be 

corrected by the higher power of intelligence. This higher power discerns intelligible 

ideas which are true and trustworthy. These ideas are not originated by the spirit's own creative act. They 

are not produced by the occasional intervention of the Deity. But they must be seen as they are in the 

mind of, or in relation to their real essence in, God. The favorite and peculiar doctrine of Malebranche 

was, that " the soul sees all things in God." 

In the support of this doctrine, he not merely used the cardinal assumptions of Descartes, but devel- 
oped a complete theory of sense-perception with far greater distinctness and detail than any of his predeces- 
sors, and did more to give direction and form to the modern theories than even Locke himself. These modern 
theories owe very much to Malebranche, for making one or two of the most important distinctions, as well 
:ib for confirming one or two very serious errors. The distinctions which he introduced are the following: . 
1. He distinguished, in sense-perception, the element of sensation from the element of judgment. 01 
the four different elements {Recherche de la VerM, Liv. i. chap. x. § 6 ; chap. vii. § 4 ; chap. xiv. § 3), which 



§ 200. THEORIES OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 22? 

he says occur in almost every sensation, and are confounded by most persons, but which it ie most impor- 
tant to distinguish ; the third and fourth are the following : the sensation, or subjective state of the soul, 
as of warmth; and the judgment which the soul makes that this warmth is in the hand or in the fire. 
"This judgment is natural, or rather, it is only a compound or complex sensation "— " ou plulot ce n'est 
qiCune sensation composee." This natural judgment is usually followed by another judgment which is free, 
but which the soul, through the force of habit, makes with the utmost rapidity. In support of the asser- 
tion, that into every sensation tbere enters the element of judgment, he urges the cases of judgment in 
what are now called the acquired perceptions, as when we judge of the distance and size of a visible object. 
Bat it was a great point to have gained, to distinguish the intellectual and sensational element at all. 

2. Malebranche comes very near to a proper recognition of the distinction between the conditions oi 
sensation [sense-perception] and the act itself; and among these conditions themselves he makes a distinc- 
tion. The first two of the four elements already referred to are the action of the object (in the case oi 
warmth) on the fibres of the hand ; the second, the resulting motion in the hand, and through the body in 
the brain. These two elements of the complex state belong to the body; the last two, to the soul. 

The errors of Malebranche are the following : 1. While he distinguishes so clearly between the con- 
ditions of the sense-perceptions and the sense-perceptions themselves, assigning the one to matter and tha 
other to the soul, he fails entirely m asserting for the soul an inherent power to know the properties and re- 
lations of matter ; because of the Cartesian assumption that there* is and can be no relation between the two. 

2. The explanations by which he accounts for the processes of natural judgment, according to which 
the soul's snbjective sensations are referred to the parts of the body, and to objects without the body, are all 
inadequate and unsatisfactory. The fact only is asserted, that the soul, in its sensations, also judges ; but 
by what methods or upon what criteria or grounds, is not explained. The natural judgments [and 
acquired] of sense are treated as having no relation to the judgments of pure intelligence. The first are 
treated as always confused, illusive, and untrustworthy. The last only are regarded as true, by virtue oi 
the relation of their objects to God. 

3. Malebranche accepts the doctrine, that it is only through ideas that we can apprehend material ob- 
jects, and thereby denies that we can know such objects as they are. He gives various reasons to show that 
these intermediate ideas are necessary. They are mostly drawn from the phenomena of vision. While 
he rejects the doctrine of species and effluxes, and every form of material representation, he as earnestly 
supports the doctrine of immaterial representatives, and holds that these are changing, uncertain, deceitful, 
and confused, when contrasted with the pure ideas which are attained in God. 

It deserves here to be noticed, that Malebranche was entirely rigorous in the application of the Carte- 
sian theory of the nature of matter to the conception of what is really knowable of material things. Ii 
matter is extension only, then all the knowledge of matter which we could possibly gain by sense-percep- 
tion would be of certain relations of extension. Even our knowledge of the sensible qualities, as of hot, 
cold, yellow, blue, rough, and smooth, would be the knowledge of the positions and changes of the material 
particles [i. e., portions of extension] on which they depend. Of these relations of extension sense gives us 
imperfect and inconsistent knowledge ; as when we look at a cube, each side is equally square in its real 
form and relations, but they are not so in their rational idea. 

4. Malebranche asserts, that in sense-perception the soul is passive in all its elements. It is true ho 
asserts the same of the whole intellective nature, making the activity of the soul to belong only to the 
emotional powers ; but the error was none the less serious in respect to his theory of sense-knowledge. 

§ 200. Antony Arnauld, who was the most distinguished opponent of Malebranche, con- 
tributed greatly to the correct theory of sense-perception. He maintained the following 

Arnauld, A., ... . , , r , , , 

I6P-1694 positions against Malebranche : 

1. It is a false assumption that the soul cannot perceive except by means of repre- 
sentative ideas. What the soul perceives, is not the idea as distinguishable from and 
representative of the material object, but it is the object itself. The idea is nothing else than the percep- 
tion itself. To say that the soul has an idea, is the same as to say that the soul has a perception. The 
only difference of meaning between the two is, that perception stands especially for the modification of the 
mind in the act of perceiving ; while idea stands for the object perceived, so far as it is in the spirit as an 
object of thought. " Ainsi la perception oVun carre marque plus directement mon dme comme appercevant un 
carre', et V 'idee cPun carre marque plus directement le carre, en tant quHl est objectivement dans mon esprit," 
Chap. v. § 6. Des vrais etfausses Idees. The words do not designate two entities, but one modification of the 
soul which includes two relations. It is only in the sense that the representative ideas differ from percep- 
tions, that Arnauld denies their existence. In the other sense of representative modalities, he holds that 
all our perceptions are representative ideas. The prevailing error arises from conceiving of these spiritual 
modifications, by analogies from material images, as representative pictures and drawings. The idea of 
a material object is the object as conceived by the mind. 

2. The soul, to perceive a material object, does not need to come into contact with the object per- 
ceived. This, the great argument for an intermediate object, Arnauld confutes at length, showing that it 
involves the consequence that the idea must have relations to space and to the soul itself, which comes in 
contact with it. When we perceive the sun, we do not need to go to the sun, nor to its idea. 

3. The soul is not passive in perception, but active. It is endowed directly by the Creator with the 



230 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 201 

power to perceive. In the exercise of this power or faculty it is active. It acts in as many ways as it ia 
rendered capable of doing by the creative endowment of God. It is as reasonable to suppose that it can 
perceive material objects directly, as that it can know directly its own states or modifications. 

4. "We must, in the last analysis, be able to perceive material objects directly. Otherwise, we should 
not know that the representative ideas did represent them. 

In all tbese positions Arnauld made important advances toward a correct theory of sense-percep- 
tion, and prepared the way for, if he did not anticipate, the doctrines of Eeid and Hamilton. The fifth 
chapter of his great work on True and False Ideas reminds the reader of the acuteness and subtilty of 
Hamilton, more than any passage from any other modern writer. It far surpasses any thing in Reid foi 
sondensation of language, sharpness of division, and clearness of definition. 

§ 201. The speculations of Locke have exerted a powerful influence upon the course 
l of modern philosophy, and incidentally upon the theories of sense-perception. The 

1632-1704. ' Essay on the Human Understanding is not so much a psychological as it is a meta- 

physical treatise. It does not so much analyze the powers and functions of the 
human soul, as it decomposes and traces to their origin the ideas or conceptions 
which make up the stock of human knowledge. His doctrine of sense-perception is not formally expound- 
ed as such, nor is it distinctly propounded in separate propositions. It must be gathered and inferred 
from his discussions of the ideas of sense, of the primary and secondary qualities of matter, and of the 
nature and kinds of knowledge. 

Locke was familiar with both Gassendi and Descartes, and perhaps with Malebranche, and had in 
his mind the speculations of these philosophers, as well as the logic current in his time, which retained 
not a few of the distinctions and phrases of the schoolmen. He was also, as a physician, familiar with 
the received physiology of his time ; and as a physical philosopher he sympathized very warmly with 
what was called the New Philosophy — i. e., with the doctrines of Boyle, Newton, and the founders of 
the Royal Society. 

From Gassendi he derived some of his materialistic conceptions and modes of explaining mental 
phenomena, as well as his eclectic tendency to bring together opposite and incongruous principles— 
e. g. } materialistic hypotheses, and theistic and even Christian doctrines. But through the spirit of 
his own system, he fell far below Gassendi in the analysis of the faculties. Gassendi recognizes reason, 
or the light of nature, as the source of intuitive truths and of our higher knowledge, and contrasts 
these higher powers with the lower faculties of sense and phantasy. Locke lumps these powers and 
their products together, under the general title of reflection. 

Erom Descartes he learned to assert, if possible more positively than he, the authority of conscious- 
ness, and the validity of the ideas which it furnishes when it is exalted into reflection. But he sets 
himself most decidedly to deny and refute his doctrine of innate ideas ; Locke's first book being a 
forma] refutation of Descartes' Meditations. His zeal against this doctrine led him so far that he failed 
to provide and account for our higher knowledge and intuitions, so that he in this respect even fell far 
below Gassendi. He rejected the sharp distinction made by Descartes between spirit and matter, going 
so far as almost to defend the proposition that matter can think. He, of course, set aside the assump- 
tion that the essence of matter is extension, and the essence of spirit is thought. 

On the other hand, with the Cartesians, he rejected the doctrine of substantial forms, and in entire 
harmony with the physicists of his time, assumed that all material phenomena, even those which are 
exhibited by living beings, including those which serve the spiritual soul, are to be accounted for by 
mechanical laws. Hence, from Descartes he accepted, without hesitation, the doctrine of the primary 
and secondary qualities of matter. 

His aversion to scholastic terminology and over-refined distinctions, and his desire to make himself 
intelligible to men unused to the technics of philosophy, induced him to overlook many of the sharp 
distinctions which Descartes, Malebranche, and Arnauld had made. Their effect was also to introduce 
confusion of thought and inconsistency of statement into a treatise which both aimed and claimed to be 
level to the common understanding. The importance of the weighty truths which Locke embodied in 
this apparently most intelligible treatise, and the high esteem ia which Locke has been held by the 
English people, have perpetuated in Great Britain a similar method of treating philosophical subjects, 
as well as a loose and confused, yet unscholastic style of writing upon them. 

To understand and critically to appreciate Locke, the following work» may be recommended : 
Leibnitz, G. "W., Nouveaux Essais ; Descartes, R., Meditationes : Principia ; Malebranche, N., Re- 
cherche de la Verite; Lee, H., Anti- Skepticism, Lond , 1702; Burthogge, R., Essay Upon Reason, fyc, 
Loud., 1694 ; Solid Philosophy Asserted, by J. S. [Sargent], Lond., 1697 ; Browne, P., Procedure, Extent, 
and Limits of Human Understanding, Lond., 1729, 2d ed. ; Things Divine and Supernatural conceived by 
Analogy, Lond., 1733 ; Herbert, E., of Cherbury, De Veritaie, Lond., 1645, 3d ed. ; More, H., Opera Phi- 
losophica, Lond., 1679 ; Cumberland, E., De Legibus Nature, Lond., 1672 ; Cudworth, R., True Intellectual 
System of the Universe, Lond., 1678 ; Ilobbes, T., Works, ed. Molesworth, Lond., 1839-45 ; Smith, John, 
Select Discourses ; Cousin, V., Cours de VHistoire de la Philosophic, Lecons 16-25, Paris, 1S28-9, 8vo, trans, 
by C. S. Henry, Hartford, 1S34; King, W., Life of Locke, Lond., 1830; Tagart, E., Locke's Writings and 
Philosophy, Lond., 1855 ; Webb, T. E., Intellectual ism of Locke, Dublin, 1857. 



§201. 



THEOEIES OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 231 



To the theory of Sense-Perception Locke made not a single contribution of -what had not been known 
before, -while, by his method of treating the subject, he opened the way for very serious misunderstand' 
ings and fundamental errors. This circumstance ought not to diminish our respect for Locke as a man, 
nor our estimate of the excellence and importance of his Essay. 

In respect to sense-perception, Locke's opinions may be divided as follows : 

1. Of the medium or physical conditions of sense-perception he teaches little that is positive, and 
nothing that was new. He refers to the organs of sense, and also to the nerves and the animal spirits, 
as receptive of impulses and susceptible of motion, and leaves his readers to infer that it is probably by 
mechanical changes in their material particles that the conditions of sensation are furnished. He does 
aot explain, however, in detail, what these conditions are, so far as the organs of sense are concerned. 

2. Of the facidty, he says only that it is a distinct source of knowledge, and that from this we derive 
all that we know of material qualities— i. e., of the separable elements given by each of the senses. The 
name of this faculty is usually sensation or external sense. Its operation or function he usually calls 
perception. He calls it perception, B. ii. c. ix. § 1. He calls it sensation, B. ii. c. xix. § 1. Rather, 
the idea is here called sensation. All more precise knowledge of the faculty and its workings we are 
forced to infer or gather from his view of the objects with which it has to do, and his discussion of the 
act of knowledge in general. It is, however, a serious defect in his treatment of the faculty, that he 
uniformly regards it as passive, always representing it as the " receiver of ideas," never as the active 
agent, which is competent by its own energies to know objects. The process and the nature of percep- 
tion is rather explained by the objects which are impressed upon it, than by the power of the soul to 
perceive that they exist. 

3. The objects apprehended by the faculty of sense are the qualities of matter. Of these there are 
two classes : the primary and the secondary. The primary are solidity, extension, figure, motion, rest, 
and number. The secondary are the so-called sensible qualities, as color, taste, smell, etc. These are 
the capacities in material objects to produce certain impressions or affections of the soul by variations of 
size, figure, position, and motions of the primary qualities. In the language of the more recent schools, 
material objects are known by director intuitive perception as occupying and related to space, so far 
are they known in their real nature. In the same way they are known to be diverse from the mind 
which perceives them. In their sensible or secondary qualities, they are known as the producers [by 
means of their essential qualities] of subjective affections of the mind. 

These two classes of qualities make up all that we know of material objects, when we add to them the 
" obscure idea " of substance, as that in which they inhere. 

4. "What knowledge is, or what it is for the mind to know, Locke teaches by the following definitions : 
" The mind knows not things immediately, but only by the intervention of the ideas it has of them. 

Our knowledge, therefore, is real only so far as there is a conformity between our ideas and the reality 
of things" (B. iv. c. iv. § 3). This language seems at first to assert as plainly as possible the view, that it 
is only by means of intervening ideas that the mind acquires its original knowledge, or perceives mate- 
rial objects and qualities. In support of this construction of his words, Locke speaks of ideas as being 
conveyed to "the presence-chamber of the mind," as being painted in fading colors, as being con- 
sumed to ashes by the fires and heat of passion and desire. Locke, moreover, asserts (B. ii. c. viii. § 11, 12) 
that the way "in which bodies produce ideas in us," is manifestly "by impulse, the only way we can 
conceive bodies to operate in." Moreover, "if external objects be not present to our minds when they 
produce ideas in it, . . . 'tis evident that some motion must be then continued by our nerves or aui 
mal spirits ... to the brain or the seat of sensation ; and since extension, figure, and motion may 
be perceived at a distance by the sight," "'tis evident some singly imperceptible bodies must come from 
them to the eyes, and thereby convey to the brain some motion which produces these ideas." In respect 
to the secondary qualities, we may conceive that they also are produced by the motion of insensible, i. e., 
indiscernible particles. For example, let us suppose "that the different motions and figure, bulk and 
number of such particles " " produce in us the sensations of the color and smell of a violet "—viz., of the 
blue color and sweet odor of this flower. 

Locke, moreover, says of the relation of these " ideas " to their correspondent qualities or objects : 
" The ideas of primary qualities of bodies are resemblances of them, and their patterns do really exist 
in the bodies themselves ; but the ideas produced in us by their secondary qualities have no resemblance 
of them at all." He expressly defines knowledge of every kind to be the discernment of an agreement 
or disagreement between two entities: in the case of sense-knowledge between the representative idea 
and its counterpart. 

The language of Locke in these passages, if strictly construed, would seem to declare that it is by the 
intervention of representative ideas that we perceive sensible objects, and that we can only know them so 
far as we discern that they "resemble" or " agree with" their object. Hence it has been charged upon 
him that h6 taught the doctrine of perception by means of intervening images or ideas. It becomes a 
question of great interest, therefore, what he actually did intend by this careless and confused language. 
It is obvious that any such theory of knowledge, when applied to sense-perception, would break down 
by its own weight. It must involve a positive self-contradiction, or else an idle and useless expedient. 
If we can only know a material object by means of the intervening idea, which " represents" or agree* 



232 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 202 

with it, then we can never reach, or know the object at all ; for we may go on by a succession of pre 
cesses ad infinitum, and, when we have done, we Bhall only have reached a representative idea, but shal] 
never have grasped the object itself. On the other hand, if it be conceded that we can and do perceive 
material objects, and, in perceiving them, discern that the idea is " conformed to," l ' agrees with," ot 
" represents" its object, then we must be able to compare the two together— the material object and its 
idea. But in order to be able to compare the object with its idea, we must know each term which we 
compare— i. e., we must first have known the object itself. But if we know it already, of what use is it, 
or how is it possible, to acquire knowledge of it by the idea? It also renders it impossible to know the 
secondary qualities by any mean3 whatever, for Locke expressly asserts that no similarity exists between 
the ideas of secondary qualities and the qualities themselves— as of the smell, etc., of the violet, and the 
qualities in objects which produce them. 

These consequences, so fatal to the representative theory, supposing Locke to have held it, would lead 
us to question whether he intended by "idea," in every or in any case, an intervening representative image ; 
and by the words, " to resemble," " to be conformed to," "to agree with," any relation discerned by a pro- 
cess of comparison. A careful examination of the most of the passages of the Essay authorizes the conclu- 
sion that, however careless he may have been in his language, he never intended to use idea as the condition 
of sense-perception, so far as by this we acquire knowledge of matter, but only as the mental modification, 
which we use in mediate knowledge, as in memory, imagination, and generalization. "We have seen 
(§170), that Eeid falls into the very same inconsistency of language, and exposes himself, by so doing, to 
the charge of holding the representative theory. In all cases of what is really representative knowledge, 
we first have gained the idea by intuition, before we compare it with its object. Locke's definition of knowl- 
edge as the discernment of the agreement or disagreement of ideas, would preeminently and only properly 
apply to logical knowledge, or that knowledge of which "generalized concepts" form the material, and are 
the terms compared. The language in which he expressly distinguishes between the two kinds of knowl 
edge justifies this interpretation of his meaning. " In the former case [of sensitive knowledge], our knowl- 
edge is the consequence of things producing ideas in our minds by our senses. In the latter, knowledge is 
the consequence of.the ideas (be they what they will) that are in our minds, producing these general certain 
propositions." Cf. Essay, B. iv. c. ii. § 14 ; but for the other view, B. ii. c. viii. §§ 15, 16. These chapters are 
worth studying, not only as an exposition of Locke's real meaning in respect to sense-knowledge, but as 
illustrating strikingly how far he was indebted to and influenced by the doctrines of Descartes and Male- 
branche. " We may not think [as perhaps usually is done] that they [ideas of sensible qualities] are ex- 
actly the images and resemblances of something inherent in the subject ; most of those of sensation being 
in the mind no more the likeness of something existing without us, than the names that stand for them are 
the likeness of our ideas, which yet, upon hearing, they are apt to excite in us." Essay, B. ii. c. viii. § 7. 
But whatever doubt there may be in respect to the doctrines which Locke actually taught in respect 
to perception, there can be no question at all in respect to the construction which other writers gave them, 
or to the inferences which they derived from the principles which they imputed to him. 

§ 202. Berkeley (Principles of Human Knowledge, § IS sqq.), assuming that ideas only are 
the direct objects of the mind's knowledge in sense-perception, concludes that it is impos- 
leTl-l?^' e °'' sible that the mind should know that the material_or external world exists at all. It is 
impossible that the mind should know the objects which the ideas are said to resemble. 
Tor, in the first place, one idea can only be like an idea, and can never be like an object ; 
and second, if the idea was like the object, we could never know the likeness except by knowing both the idea 
and its object. All that the mind can know are its own sensations or modifications. The distinction between 
primary and secondary qualities is not well-founded. It is true we know that it is only on occasion of the ideas 
of extension, motion, and figure, that we have the sensations of color, taste, and sound. Ideas exist only 
so far as they are perceived. The laws which we conceive to govern material things, only govern the com- 
binations of our ideas. Eeal objects, as we call them, are only combinations of ideas ; the only difference 
between them and the so-called imaginary ideas consists chiefly in this, that the first are not dependent on 
our will to produce them, but are always present to our minds, whether we will or no. Imaginary ideas, 
on the other hand, come and go according as we will. Eeal ideas are also more lively and distinct, while 
those of the imagination are faint and confused. The knowledge of spirit is strikingly contrasted with that 
which we have of matter. "We know ourselves and our own states or modifications directly. "We know our 
thoughts, feelings, etc., not their ideas. That the universe is permanent in its objects— viz., ideas— and 
also in its laws, is to be explained by this, that the Eternal Spirit constantly sustains and presents these 
ideas for the contemplation of created spirits. By means of these, the attributes and government of God 
are made known. All the things that we perceive, are the ideas of God. 

Other idealists, as Arthur Collier, maintained the non-existence of the material world by similar 
arguments. 

David Hume was not content to apply the ideal theory to the world of matter, but ha 
maintained that it was as true of the world of spirits, rejecting the distinction made in 
17 lT^-1 7 7 6 ine ' f avor o:f * Qe l att er by Berkeley, and urging that we know nothing of the mind except 

only the ideas which we experience, and dissolving all real existences into mere collec- 
tions of ideas. 



§203. 



THEORIES OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 23, 



Berkeley's Essay toward a New TJicory of Vision, 1709, was the most important contribution which hi 
made to the theory of sense-perception. This was followed by The Theory of Vision Vindicated and Ex- 
plained, 1733. In these essays Berkeley gave greater precision and fulness to the doctrine of the acquired 
perceptions. The fact that some of our perceptions are acquired was familiarly known and generally 
accepted before the time of Berkeley. It was generally held, however, that the acquired judgments wero 
formed by means of the properties of light, as taught in the science of optics. This doctrine Berkeley 
sets aside, and clearly establishes the truth that it is by sensations attending the varied use of the eyes, 
by the confusion and clearness cf the vision, etc., etc., that these judgments of distance and magnitude 
are formed, and that these judgments are wholly matters of experience of what is the ordinary course oi 
nature. He insists that visible magnitude has no relation whatever to tangible magnitude, and that tho 
fact that we judge of one by the other is simply the result of experience ; that vision, being limited to 
color, can give no idea of distance. He attempts to prove, moreover, that "the extension, figures, and 
motions perceived by sight are specifically distinct from the ideas of touch, called by the same names ; nor 
is there any such thing as one idea, or kind of idea, common to both senses ; " the so-called visible exten- 
sion, or visible space, being totally unlike tangible space. Seme of these extreme and paradoxical ideas 
have been abandoned, as unsupported by a sound physiology and psychology ; but Berkeley's general doc- 
trine of the acquired perceptions has been almost universally accepted (cf. § 142;. 

§ 203. The most distinguished opponent of the idealism of Berkeley and Hume was 

Dr. Thomas Reid, the father of the so-called Scotch philosophy. Being startled by ths 

Dr. Thos. Held, consequences which these writers derived from their construction of Locke's theory oi 

1710-1796. * ■ .' , , n j. • jl 1 xi 7 J. ■ t x x- 

sense-perception, he was led to review not only the doctrine ot representative percep- 
tion, but also some other principles which Locke was understood to advocate in respect 
to the origin and elements of knowledge. He attempted to supply some of his defects by establishing the 
authority of common sense, or intuitive reason, as an arbiter of philosophical truth, asserting that there 
are original axioms, "or first truths, which are of independent and paramount authority. 

In respect to' sense-perception, he is less successful in stating and defending his own theory, than he 
is in criticising the theories of the advocates of representative perception. At one time he distinctly 
asserts that we perceive material things directly, without the intervention of ideas. At another, he as 
distinctly asserts that, on occasion of certain, sensations, the existence of these objects is suggested to the. 
mind with an irresistible conviction. * 

In respect to the qualities of matter, he holds nearly the language of Locke, except that he denies 
that the primary qualities are either sensations, or resemblances of sensations. He says that we have a 
direct notion of them — that we know them as they are, but that of secondary qualities we have only a 
relative notion, knowing them only as the unknown causes of known psychical effects. But what we 
know directly in knowing primary qualities, he does not define. He does not tell us whether, in knowing 
solidity, we know any thing more of it than that it is the unknown cause of a sensation ; nor whether 
we know extension and externality by direct intuition, or by indirect suggestion. 

He does not correctly conceive and consistently treat the externality which is affirmed of the objects 
of sense. At one time he treats it as though it were the not-body, at another, as though it were the not- 
spirit, which is perceived directly. Not clearly conceiving and persistently holding a just conception of tho 
problem to be solved, he failed to solve it satisfactorily. Strange as it may seem, the very act of percep- 
tion which he is to define and defend, he does not consistently conceive of. At one time he treats it as 
though it was an act by which a quality discerned by sense is referred to an external object or assemblage 
of qualities, as sweetness is referred to the rose ; at another, as the act by which the sweet odor is known 
to be, and to be distinct from the percipient mind. In other words, he perpetually confounds the acquired 
with the original perceptions, though he was familiar with the distinction between the two. 

Notwithstanding these defects and inconsistencies, his merits were great. He did not perfect a sound 
and consistent theory, but toward such a theory he furnished important contributions. 

1. He successfully exposed the groundlessness, inconsistency, and contradictions of the ancient and 
modern theories of representative perception, and cleared the way for a theory more accordant with com- 
mon experience and common sense. To establish to the conviction of all men the untenableness of a false 
theory is to perform no inconsiderable service toward the vindication of a theory that is true. Occam and 
Arnauld both made the attempt to set aside the ideal theory, the latter with equal if not greater acute- 
ness than Reid himself. What they only attempted, Reid successfully achieved. 

2. Reid vindicated the general principle, that no theory of perception is entitled to confidence as 
truly philosophical, which contradicts the universal conviction and the common sense of mankind, when 
they apply their understandings to the judgment of truths which they are competent to decide uron. 
This was a special inference from the general axioms of Reid's philosophy. Buffier, in his First Truths, 
had laid down the same position, and had also vindicated the trustworthiness and authority of sense-per- 
ception, but with less fulness and less success than Reid. 

3. Reid insisted that the mind is active in sense-perception, and did this with an earnestness rare 
among philosophers not only of the English, but of any school whatever. The ancients, and the modema 
before him, did indeed assert that the mind is active in its higher functions ; but they as distinctly denied 
that it was active in the lower. It has been nearly the uniform doctrine of all the schools that, in sensc-per« 



234 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 204. 

ception, objects act upon the mind so as to impress ideas, and that, in the reception of these «'deas, the mind 
is chiefly or wholly passive. Against this doctrine Reid occasionally protests, in language like the follow- 
ing : " An object, in being perceived, does not act at all. I perceive the walls of the room where I sit ; "but 
they are perfectly inactive, and therefore act not upon the mind. To be perceived is what logicians call an 
external denomination, which implies neither action nor quality in the object perceived. Nor could men 
have ever gone into this notion that perception is owing to some action of the object upon the mind, were 
it not that we are so prone to form our notions of the mind from some similitude we conceive between it 
and body." 

To this Hamilton takes exception, that the reasoning is not original with Reid, and that the language 
is not sufficiently qualified. Both arc doubtless true, but the value of the remark is not thereby dimin- 
ished, nor is the sagacity of its author. Arnauld had insisted, in a similar way, that the mind is activo 
in perception, but the assertion had scarcely been heeded. 

4. As intimately connected with the preceding, Reid asserts that the faculty and act of judgment ara 
present in connection with the perceptions of sense. " In persons come to years of understanding, judg- 
ment necessarily accompanies all sensation, perception by the senses," etc. True, Reid was not original 
in this; for Malebranche, Arnauld, and Buffier had asserted the same. It may be said, even, that the 
schoolmen taught the same doctrine, when they introduced the higher intellect to complete the process of 
perception. Reid scarcely acknowledged the presence of judgment, except in the sphere of the acquired 
perceptions ; only in his doctrine of suggestion he provided for it a place in the original intuitions, and in 
this made some advance upon the previously-accepted theory. 

5. Reid recognized and enforced the distinction between sensation and perception, and thus prepared 
the way for the correct and completed determination of the two elements in the process. The older phi- 
losophers distinguished between the element of sense and the element of intellect. But they kept the two 
so far separate, as not to allow their presence in the act o f original intuition, and so failed to recognize 
that intimate relation between the two, which the facts of experience attest and vouch for. 

§ 204. Dugald Stewart, the successor of Reid in the school of Scotch philosophers, 
■^ ^ owe ^ c ^ ose ^y ai1 ^ almost timidly in the footsteps of his predecessor, whom he greatly 
1753-18°8 l ' ' admired and revered. He adopted the views of Reid in the main, but introduced 
greater precision into the distinctions which he established, and somewhat enlarged the 
range of the questions which he had started for discussion. In these ways, without 
contributing any new matter to the correct theory of sense-perception, he rendered very important service 
toward its final determination. He stated the questions more clearly, drew the distinctions more pre- 
cisely, materially enlarged the range of observation, and enabled succeeding philosophers to face more 
distinctly the problems which needed solution. 

1. He discriminated more carefully between sensation and perception than Reid. He limited percep- 
tion to the act of apprehending the objects appropriate to each separate sense, and escaped the confusion 
and ambiguity which Reid committed, of confounding the original with the acquired perceptions. 

Of three of the senses— smell, taste, and hearing— he denied perception altogether in fact, though not 
inform. He expressly asserted that these, by themselves, give no information of external objects {Out- 
lines of Moral Philosophy, § 15). He asserts that the sensation of color, even as given in vision, can reside 
in the mind only, and is purely subjective ; giving no relation of extension, and in our early experience 
clearly separable from it. It is connected with the primary qualities by a necessary belief of the mind ; 
and so readily does the one suggest the other, as the mind is developed, that we conceive of color as spread 
over the surface of bodies, under the influence of an insurmountable association. (Elements, V. ii. c. i. § 2). 
He even suggests that the primary qualities, as extension and figure, are attended by sensations of theii 
own, which perform the office of signs only, without attracting any notice to themselves ; so that, as they 
are seldom accompanied with cither pleasure or pain, we acquire an habitual inattention to them in early 
infancy, which is not easily surmounted in our maturer years. (Outlines, etc., § 32.) 

"Whatever may be thought of the correctness of these views, it cannot be denied that they served to 
draw more finely and to render more exact the distinction between sensation and perception, as well as to 
bring out more distinctly the truth, that perception has chiefly to do with the two relations of externality 
and of extension ; and that the chief question which we need to answer in respect to perception is this : 
How and when does the mind apprehend objects as external and extended ? 

2. Stewart apprehended, far more clearly than Reid, the true character of what he calls the mathe- 
matical affections of matter, and the relation of these affections to space and to our belief in space as a 
necessary existence. These mathematical affections arc extension and figure, and are distinguished from 
the other primary qualities, such as hardness or solidity, and are thus characterized : 1. They presuppose 
the existence of our external senses. 2. The notion of them involves an irresistible conviction of the 
external existence of their objects — viz., of space. 3. This conviction is neither the result of reasoning, 
nor of experience, but is inseparable from the very conception of it, and must therefore be considered as 
an ultimate and essential law of human thought. (Phil. Essays, chap. ii. § 2.) 

These remarks of Stewart in respect to space and extension are more discriminating than those ol 
Reid upon the same topic, and bring distinctly to view the distinctions and problems which aro necessarily 
nvolved in a complete theory of sense-perception. 



g '205. THEOEIES OE SENSE-PERCEPTION. 235 

3. Stewai fc adds to the doctrine of Reid, that we believe in the existence of the material world, by a 
necessary suggestion. The explanation of our belief in its permanence, he finds in our more compre- 
hensive belief in the permanence of the laws of Nature. Intuitive suggestion would give us only the 
present existence of objects correspondent to our sensations. But we also need some ground of our belie! 
in their permanent existence, and this is given in the more comprehensive intuition which concerns the past 
and the future, as well as the present. 

The authority and the necessity of this intuition were recognized by Dr. Reid, but the application 
of it to the completion of the act of sense-perception was original with Stewart. Further reflection would 
doubtless have \e& him to acknowledge, that no act of sense-perception can be complete without involving 
also some process of induction. But in recognizing the necessity of this principle, Stewart elevates the 
act of perception from a passive receptivity to an active energy, and also does justice to one of the intel- 
lectual elements which are necessary to make it complete. 

§ 205. Dr. Thomas Brown followed in the same school with Reid and Stewart. He* 
Dr. Thomas pushed the distinction between sensation and perception to a greater refinement than 
Brown, 1778- Stewart had done, and went so far as to reject altogether the distinction between the 
1820, primary and the secondary qualities. The analysis which he has given of the processes 

and the products of the sense-perceptions, is the boldest and one of the most subtle 
which is to be found in the whole compass of English psychology. "Whatever opinion may be formed of 
the soundness of Dr. Brown's opinions, he cannot fail to receive credit for the ingenuity of this analysis. 

1. Dr. Brown attached great importance to the muscular sensations. He was one of the earliest of 
English psychologists to recognise and to distinguish them from the sensations as usually accepted. This 
distinction is now almost universally adopted. Dr. Brown made so much of these sensations, as to derive 
from these alone the notions of extension and of externality. He not only insisted, with Stewart, that 
the sensations of color are independent of and need convey no notion of extension, but that even the sen- 
sations appropriate to touch are as truly subjective, and that both suggest the extended and external object 
only through an inveterate association. 

The process or method by which the muscular sensations give extension, is thus explained : In the 
contraction and expansion of any of the muscles — as, for example, those of the hand — there is a succession 
of similar feelings, each of which, taken singly, would be only a subjective state of the soul's experience, 
or a simple sensation. But when these are contemplated in a succession or series— that is, when tbey are 
connected in time so as to be reviewed by the memory— they suggest at once one of the dimensions of 
space, or extension. The muscular sensations alone are competent to this, because they alone are capable 
of producing many repetitions of the same series. Hence, to these is limited the office of giving extension, 
and of connecting our other sensations with space, and with objects in space. 

The manner in which the muscular sensations were supposed by Brown to acquaint us with an exter- 
nal object, has already been explained and discussed (§ 130). 

The critical inquiry must suggest itself to any mind : "Why may not the muscular sensations be aa 
truly and entirely subjective as any of the sensations proper 1 If one such sensation, taken singly, is purely 
subjective, why not a series] How can it be that a series of such sensations, in the order or relation of 
time, should become even the occasion or suggestion of relations of place or space 1 

2. It is obvious from this analysis, that Dr. Brown scarcely recognizes the distinction adopted by Reid 
between sensation and perception. So far as the original perceptions are concerned, he rejects it altogether, 
as indeed he must, perforce. The only acts of perception which he acknowledges or describes, are acts of 
acquired perception. It is only when through the muscular sensations we are furnished with external and 
extended objects, that we learn to attach to these our several sensations. 

Indeed the language which Brown habitually uses, expresses his rejection of the fact of perception. 
He speaks of om feeling even cf extension, as though, because the act of the mind were performed by 
the mind itself, therefore the act must be wholly or chiefly subjective ; in other words, because the mind 
is subjectively active in knowing, it can only directly know its own states, and never an object differing 
from itself or its own modifications. 

He refers our belief in the external and material world to the principle of causation. We know our 
sensations as subjective states of the soul. "We believe that they must be produced by a cause. We 
know that they are not caused by ourselves. There must be causes other than ourselves. These causea 
are material non-egos. The existence of these non-egos is not suggested directly, as Reid teaches, but 
it is inferred. " Perception, then, even in that class of feelings by which we learn to consider our- 
selves as surrounded by substances extended and resisting, is only another name, as I have said, for the 
result of certain associations and inferences that flow from other more general principles of the mind" 
(Lee. 26, cf. § 130). 

"When Brown makes such frequent use of the principle of causation in his theory of sense-percep- 
tion, we ought not to fail to remember that his views of causation are peculiar, both in respect to the 
nature of the relation itself, and the ground of our confidence in its necessity and universality. The re- 
mark is equally applicable to all his followers and to the disciples of kindred schools, particularly to the 
doctrines and definitions of J. Stuart Mill, concerning sense-perception and its objects. 

3. It is equally clear that Brown, to be consistent, would reject nearly or altogether the distinction 



236 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 206. 

between the primary and the secondary qualities of matter, as explained by Reid, and in part adopted 
by Stewart. He maintains that there is a certain propriety in the distinction, but that it is not giver, by 
our original perceptions themselves, but only arises upon reflection. It is only by a secondary and arti 
ficial process that we reach the belief of extension and extended objects. The distinction between the 
primary and secondary qualities must necessarily be subsequent to this belief. 

Dr. Brown founded no school, in the proper sense of the word, but his doctrines have had no little 
Influence in respect to many important questions in psychology and philosophy. The associationalisU 
and the cerebralists have, in many points, reproduced his views, and refer to him as a high authority 
James Mill, 1773-1836 {Analysis of the Phenomena of the Human Mind), follows him very closely in the 
subjective and sensational character which he gives to our knowledge of matter, and in the resolution 
of the higher acts of intelligence, as well as of the belief in time and space, and in all necessary truths, 
into the law of association (cf. Chaps, ii., iii., and xi.) John Stuart Mill, the son, follows close in the steps 
of both, in his definitions of sensations and of material objects (.Logic, B. i. c. iii. § § 3, 4, and 7. Ex- 
amination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy, etc., chaps, xi., xiii., xiv.) With him also agree, in 
these common peculiarities, received from Dr. Brown, Alexander Bain (The Senses and the Intellect), 
and Herbert Spencer (Principles of Psychology). 

§ 296. This deservedly eminent and excellent Professor of Logic and Metaphysics in 
Sir "William tllQ University of Edinburgh, was one of the greatest philosophers of Great Britain. 

Hamilton, He devoted his researches to two leading topics : Formal Logic, and the Theories of 

1788-ISod. Sense-perception. • He had studied the history of these theories with greater care 

than any one of his own time, and had gathered from his historical researches the 
most valuable results in the way of observation and analysis. His contributions are important in 
respect to all the points which have been noticed. 

1. Sensation and perception were more carefully discriminated by him, as to their nature and mate- 
rial relations, than by any philosopher before his time. They are viewed by him as inseparable elements 
of a single mental state, and are called sensation and perception proper. Sensation does not precede 
perception in the order of time, nor of conscious experience, though it is its essential condition, so far, 
at least, that no perception is formed except in connection with an excited sensation. 

But though these are inseparable elements, and are always present in the apprehension of every 
material object, they are not active with the same energy or intenseness. ^\s a general rule, the energy 
of the one is inversely as that of the other. 

Further, sensation and perception, as coexistent elements of the same mental act, are contrasted as 
special acts or experiences of feeling and knowledge ; with this difference, however, that sensation-proper 
is an affection not of the soul only, but of the body as united with the soul, or, more exactly, of the organism 
as animated by the soul, and otherwise made capable of sentient experiences. Sensation, as experienced 
in the organism, necessarily involves the relation of relative locality ; it being impossible that a sensation 
should be experienced, and yet not be placed with more or less distinctness in some part of the organism 

It may here be observed, that, however correct Hamilton may be in the view that sensation is 
necessarily placed — i. e., experienced under some relation of extension, the question will at once occur, 
how far this position is consistent with the other position, that sensation-proper and perception-proper 
are contrasted as feeling and knowledge. An affection experienced with some apprehended relation of 
place, must include some object and act of knowledge ; and, if so, then the two are only ideally conceiva- 
ble, as reciprocally knowledge and feeling. Rather, the classification should be threefold, into knowledge, 
feeling, and sensation ; the last partaking somewhat of both. According to his classification, the soul 
should be treated as endowed with the power of sensation or sense-perception, knowledge, emotion, and 
will. If this classification is adopted, the phenomena of sense-perception must be referred to the joint 
action of sensation and knowledge ; knowledge, in its appropriate and higher forms of action, being con- 
fessedly involved in the apprehension of material qualities and material objects. 

2. Hamilton asserts that sense-perception involves the action of the intelligence in the form of judg- 
ment, or the discrimination of relations. It follows of necessity that, in perception, man is active, and 
not simply receptive or passive. These important truths Hamilton enforces on every occasion. 

Ho is not, however, sufficiently explicit in showing the variety of acts of judgment which are in- 
volved in the several processes of sense-perception, from the most elementary to the most complicated. 
Nor does he state how the act of perception, which is also an act of judgment, can possibly differ from 
an act of thought. In defining the elaborative facult3', or the power of thought, he makes it to be the 
faculty of relations. But sense-perception, so far as it involves judgment, knows objects in their rela- 
tions, and is so far coincident with the higher power of thought. The only possible ground for discrim- 
inating the two, is in the fact that the presentative power apprehends and judges individual objects, and 
the elaborative power apprehends and judges objects which are general, and the relatic us which they 
involve. 

3. In respect to extension and space, Hamilton tenches, with Kant and a multitude cf others, that 
while the special relations of every material body are known by sense-perception, yet space itself is pre- 
supposed by the intuition of the intellect, in order that it may bo possible for all of these relations to be 
perceived as actual. Space must be known d priori, in order that extension may be known a posteriori. 



§206. THEORIES OP SENSE-PERCEPTION. 23? 

Moreover, lie teaches, as has already heen explained under No. 1, that all the senses involve th« 
relation of extension, some with greater, and others with less definiteness, and that it is absurd, and 
contrary to experience, to teach that the sensations of sound and smell are purely spiritual affections. 

The extension which is apprehended in the original acts of sense-perception, is primarily the exten- 
sion that pertains to the portions of the sensorium which are excited in a determinate way. The 
cpace-relations which are affirmed of material objects, are indirectly apprehended aud acquired. 

4. In respect to externality, Hamilton teaches positively though not with so great clearness aa 
is desirable, that the term is used in two senses : (1) as denoting the diversity of the sentient organism 
from the perceiving intellect ; and (2) the diversity of material objects from the material organism which 
ihe soul animates, and by which it apprehends. 

In respect to the first of these relations, he asserts that it is directly apprehended in every act of 
sense -perception— it being impossible that a sensation should be experienced without being apprehended 
as belonging to that organism which is diverse from, or external to the mind, as well as animated by it. 
This is a necessary element of the doctrine of natural realism, or of immediate perception. 

In respect to the second, he teaches that it is gained by the exercise of the locomotive power in the 
form of muscular effort. This effort is resisted, and with the resistance is gained the correlative of a 
resisting something, external to the body or sentient organism. " "When I am conscious of the exertion 
of an enorganic volition to move, and aware that the muscles are obedient to my will, but at the same 
time aware that my limb is arrested in its motion by some external impediment, in this case I cannot ba 
conscious of myself as the resisted relative, without at the same time being conscious, being immedi- 
ately percipient of a not-self as the resisting correlative." 

We do not doubt that the exercise of muscular effort has an important agency in enabling the mind 
to apprehend externality of material objects; but we cannot agree with Hamilton, that it attains this 
knowledge in the way or on the sole conditions in which he asserts that it does ; or that, if it did, th's 
would be properly termed an immediate perception. The conditions supposed are, that the mind should 
know its own muscular efforts, and distinguish itself as the cause of such " enorganic volition," in or 
over these efforts. But this distinction, if it be allowed to be real, is too subtle and refined to attract the 
attention at a very early stage in the mind's development. If it be possible to account for it by another 
and more natural process, it is far more rational to do so. Such a solution we have attempted to furnish, 
in the processes by which the mind combines the muscular and tactual perceptions, both of which are 
more likely to attract the attention at an early period, and are more rapidly distinguished than is the 
mind's spiritual activity, and its effects upon, or rather within the organism. 

But if we suppose the process or the conditions stated by Hamilton to be correctly stated, the conse- 
quent apprehension would not properly be called " an immediate perception ; " for it would manifestly 
depend on the application of the relation of causality. The conclusion would be reasoned out by the fol- 
lowing process : Here is an effect of which I am not the author — viz., an experienced resistance. There 
is no force known to me within the organism which is competent to produce it. That force must there- 
fore be extra-organic, and external to my body. This is very different from the immediate perception of 
a correlative involving the apprehension of its relative. "We grant that on the supposition that we ap- 
prehend one term of two correlatives, we must immediately apprehend the other. This follows -by the 
force of logical necessity. But this logical discernment of an alternative is very different from the ap- 
prehension of a fact, or existing thing, which, when ascertained to be real, must of course be appre- 
hended as diverse from another being. 

5. The qualities of material objects are treated by Hamilton as though, as qualities, they were the 
direct objects of immediate sense-perception. This view is certainly implied in the whole of his doctrine, 
and his history of the sensible qualities of matter. At least, no hint is given of the contrary. And yet, 
strange as it may seem, Hamilton distinguishes these qualities, so far as they come within the sphere of 
psychology, as considered from the two points furnished by sense and the understanding, " the last prin- 
ciple of division " being " the different character under which the qualities, already apprehended, are 
conceived or construed to the mind in thought?'' "VVe have to do with the first only. 

A quality or attribute presupposes a substance to which it is related. It cannot be known as a 
quality except it be believed or known to be thus related. If, then, a primary quality is known as a 
quality by immediate perception, then it must be directly known to be related to its substratum or sub- 
stance, and the relation of substance and attribute is discerned in every act of original perception. All 
this is implied in this doctrine of Hamilton. If it be conceded that this is true of the primary quality of 
extension, and even of the other— viz., solidity— it has been shown that it cannot, by Hamilton's own 
showing, be true of the secundo-primary qualities, which are comprehended under resistance or pressure ; 
all of those, according to Hamilton, involving a relation to the locomotive energy of the percipient. As 
to the secondary, Hamilton himself abandons the position he had assumed, by in terms denying that 
they are objects of perception at all, being, as he justly remarks, the unknown causes of subjective af- 
fections in the percipients, and therefore incapable of being immediately perceived. Here we notice 
also an inconsistency, or, at least, an imperfection of statement. Sensation, in Hamilton's theory, 
is in no sense a purely subjective affection in the sentient. Color, sound, 6mell, are conceived of at 
affections of the animated organism, and color involves relations of extension and relative position 



238 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 200 

This is overlooked by Hamilton in his statement, though perhaps not in his conception, of the secondai-j 
qualities. 

His doctrine of the perception of the qualities of matter, as qualities, is but another example, as it is 
a consequence, of his failure exactly to discriminate between perception and thought. The fact is, that 
immediate perception, if it can apprehend any qualities or relations of matter, can only apprehend those 
which belong to the animate organism, this being the first and only object of immediate perception. 

6. Hamilton sometimes confounds the conditions of perception with perception itself. In general, 
he guards against such confusion. So learned an historian and so acute a critic of the theories of others 
could not fail to observe that no occasion of error had been more fruitful or dangerous than this ; and 
yet, in some instances, he fails to guard himself wholly against its influence. 

He yields to this snare in applying the doctrine of latent modifications of the mind to the phenomena 
of vision and hearing. He argues that, because two portions of extension, or two parts of an extended 
substance, each of which by itself is invisible, become visible when annexed 60 as to form one continuity, 
that therefore each of them, by itself, must obscurely affect the sensorium or the mind. So, two separate 
sounds, each one of which might be too feeble to be heard alone, when uttered together, cannot fail to be 
heard. In both these cases the distinction is overlooked between the action of physical or physiological 
stimuli upon the sensorium, and their effect on the sensorium as the appropriate and indeed the 
only condition of the responses of conscious sentiency or perception. One or two sounds or sights might 
be too feeble to arouse the organism, when both together would excite it to action. It does not follow 
from this that either alone would affect the soul even obscurely. 

More wonderful still is it that Hamilton does not take notice of the inconsistency in his own views 
of latent modifications of the soul. In commenting upon the phraseology of Leibnitz in such terms aa 
obscure ideas, obscure representations, insensible perceptions, etc., ha remarks: " In this he violated the 
universal usage of language. For perception, and idea, and representation, all properly involve the notion 
of its being, in fact, contradictory to speak of a representation not really represented, a perception not 
really perceived, an actual idea of whose presence we are not aware." {Met. Lee. xvii.) And yet, when 
he argues against the doctrine of Stewart, he contends that objects may affect our consciousness and yet 
net be remembered. "We contend " that this is impossible, and that it is more philosophical to suppose 
that we are not conscious of them in any sense." {Lecture xviii.) 

Again, when Hamilton, in illustrating his doctrine that the immediate object perceived by vision 
is not distant, but in contact with the organ, he says the moon which we see is but " the complement of 
the rays of light as affecting the organism." What he intends is doubtless correct, but certainly it is not 
the light which we see in any sense as a physical agent, but what the light combined with the organism 
gives us, or produces for us ; this, and this only, is the object seen. 

When, also, he asserts that in such case " the external object is in immediate contact with the 
organ," and that in this sense it is true " that all our senses are only modifications of touch," there is a 
similar confusion of the conditions of the act of perception with the object actually perceived, and as 
actually perceived. Physically it may be true that in order that the object be immediately perceived, some 
physical thing or being must be brought into contact with the organ or the organism, but it does not 
follow, therefore, that what is perceived should be touched or known by means either of superficial 
touch or of muscular energy. That both of them may accompany every sense-perception with more or 
less definite apprehension, is true. A conspicuous example is the union of touch and taste in the sense- 
perceptions given by the tongue. But, as has already been shown, what is immediately perceived is the 
organism in a given condition of sentiency. Touch, as giving the material object external to the or- 
ganism, is an acquired, and not an immediate perception at all. 

7. Hamilton attaches too great importance to the subjective sensations, or the idiopathic affections 
of the nervous system, which are excited by electrical action, indigestion, or a blow. The sparks which 
aro elicited by a blow over the eyes, the light, the sound, the taste, the ringing of the ears which elec- 
tric or other agencies occasion, are doubtless owing to a peculiar stimulus of the sensorium, and to this 
only. The occurrence of such phenomena demonstrates that similar phenomena when they continue long- 
er and arc more distinctly experienced, are owing to the power of external objects to excite the organism 
to a similar reaction ; the sensation being dependent on the proper excitement of the energies latent in 
the organism. But the brief duration and the indefinite character of the sensations themselves, when 
contrasted with the continued existence and the definite consciousness of those sensations that give us 
the knowledge of existing things, show also that the power of the object to excite has quite as much to 
do with the- result, as the capacity of the organism to be acted upon. The result is a product of their 
joint forces, both of which are equally essential to the issue, and the issue itself is the psychical act of 
such perception. 

S. Hamilton's theory of perception is vitiated still further by the metaphysical assumption that we 
know directly only phenomena, whether of matter or of mind ; and that the phenomena of either ar8 
relative to our faculties, which are themselves conceived as capable of variety and change, involving 
variety and change in the products or objects known. This theory, derived from Kant, is liable to the 
most serious objections, on general grounds and in other applications. So far as sense-perception is 
concerned, it is defective in that it assumes that phenomena, as such, are the direct objects, and the onlj 



§206. THEORIES OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 239 

direct objects of the mind's knowledge. We hold that neither phenomena nor qualities, as such, are 
perceived, but objects, percepts, or beings ; and that it is by an after-thought, or reflex irocess, thai 
these are connected as qualities, and are referred to substances (cf. § 164). 

9. The most eminent service which Hamilton bas rendered to the theory of sense-perception, is hia 
criticism of all the possible forms of the doctrine of representative or mediate perception, and his dem- 
onstration that every such theory is untenable. 

We give the substance of his- criticism in our own language, for the sake of brevity, interposing 
euch qualifications and explanations as may serve to illustrate and explain it. 

In respect to the act of sense-perception, one of two positions may be taken. The mind is endowed 
with the power of perceiving material objects by a direct and intuitive energy, without the intervention 
of any intermediate object ; or, the mind can perceive material objects only through the medium of some 
intervening object. 

It will here be observed, that the alternative does not relate to the conditions of such perception 
whether material or physiological. It is simply a question whether there are or are not intermediate 
objects in the psychological act. 

If the first position be taken, then the only obligation which rests upon the philosopher, is to state 
the conditions which are essential to the act, and to analyze the act into its elementary constituents, as 
given in, or inferred from our conscious experience and careful observation. 

The person who takes the second position is bound to show why this hypothesis is necessary. The 
natural and universal belief of mankind is, that objects are perceived directly. He who asserts that 
this is impossible, ought to give some reason for deviating from this belief. The several reasons that 
are to be found in the whole history of philosophy, are by Hamilton reduced to five groups, underlying 
each of which is a single fundamental principle. The first of them is, that an act of cognition is an act 
of the mind ; and to suppose that the mind should know that which is not itself, is to suppose that it 
can go out of itself. To this it is replied : 1. That if we cannot explain how it is possible that the mind 
should act on that which is not itself, it does not follow that it cannot be a fact. The fact may be 
oltimate, and for this reason inexplicable. 2. The principle proves too much, for it will involve the 
inference that the mind cannot act upon matter, as it manifestly does in volition. 3. Moreover, it will 
carry with itself the consequence that matter cannot act out of itself upon the mind, and of course can- 
not produce a representative image of the object. 

The second reason is, that mind and matter are substances not only of a different, but of the most 
opposite natures. "What knows immediately, must be of a nature corresponding or analogous to that 
which is known ; the mind cannot, therefore, know matter directly ; an intermediate something must be 
interposed. This reason is of the widest prevalence, and underlies almost every theory of representative 
perception. It accounts for the great variety of interposed media which have been suggested by both 
ancients and modems. When this medium has been akin to the mind, it has given the intentional 
species of the schoolmen, or the ideas of Malebranche and Berkeley. When it has been supposed to be 
identical with the mind, it has given the gnostic reasons of the Platonists, the preexisting species of 
Avicenna, the ideas of Descartes, Arnauld, Leibnitz, Buffon, and Condillac, the phenomena of Kant, the 
external states of Dr. Brown. To the influence of this assumption, are to be traced the systems of the 
absolute identity of mind and matter, of exclusive materialism on the one hand, or of spiritual idealism 
on the other. 

This grand assumption is to be rejected as arbitrary, unphilosophical, and contradictory to our 
plain experience. 

The third reason for this hypothesis is, that the mind can only know that to which it is immedi- 
ately present. External objects can hence be brought within reach of the mind only by means of some 
representation intermediate. The proper answer to this reason is, that the mind is present in every 
part of the body so far as to act and to be acted upon, and that the real object of immediate percep- 
tion is some part of the body as excited to a specific sensation. The correct view of the relation of the 
soul to the body, and of what is the real object of the mind's external perception, sets aside this third 
reason. 

Peid and Stewart attempt to set it aside by a failure to conceive these points rightly, and they 
require some agency of the Deity, and an iuexplicable connection between the sensation and perception, 
which is unphilosophieal and unsatisfactory. 

The fourth ground is stated by Hume, that the same object, as a table, at different distances changes 
its dimensions, but the object itself does not change ; therefore the object must be apprehended by an 
intermediate and changing representation. To this it is answered, that the same table is not perceived, 
so far as vision is concerned, when near and remote, but a different object in each case is the immediate 
object of sense-perception. 

The fifth reason stated by the elder Fichte is, that, as the will must act in view of intelligent objects, 
these must be within the mind ; so far then as it acts in respect to material objects, these must be 
represented in the mind. 

To this it may be replied, that the act of intelligence is in the mind, and that is all which is required 
em the condition of the act of will. Besides, the act of the will respects future results, which must neces- 



240 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §207. 

sarily be mediately represented. It is not denied that the mind is capable of mediate knowledge. The 
question at issue is, whether the act of sense-perception is an act of this kind. 

After having shown that this hypothesis of a representative perception is unnecessary, Hamilton 
shows at length that it does not stand the tests by which every legitimate hypothesis may properly be 
tried. These conditions are : (1.) That it be necessary, and be more intelligible than the fact Avhich il 
explains. (2.) That it shall not subvert that which it proposes to explain, or the ground on which it 
rests. (3.) That the facts in explanation of which it is devised really exist, and are not themselves hy- 
pothetical. (4.) That it does not subvert the phenomena which it seeka to account for. (5.) That tho 
fact which it seeks to explain must be within the sphere of experience. (6.) That it works naturally 
and simply. The hypothesis of representative perception fails to answer to any of these conditions, and 
must therefore be rejected by every true philosopher. The Works of Thomas Reid, D.D., etc., etc. ; 
Preface, Notes, and Supplementary Dissertations, by Sir William Hamilton, Bart., Edinburgh, 1846 ; lec- 
tures on Metaphysics, etc., etc., Vols. I. and II., London, 1858 ; Am. Ed., vol. I., Boston. Gould & Lincoln, 
1859; Discussions, etc., etc., London, 1852; An Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy, etc., 
etc., London, 1865; Am. Ed., 2 Vols., Boston, 1866. 

§ 207. If we pass from the schools of Great Britain to those of France, Condillac at 
once attracts our attention, for the interpretation which he gave to the principles of 
Le Condillac, B. j j0C ]j e) aB fellas for the special theory which he formed of the sense-perceptions. In 
his treatise on the Origin of Knowledge, 1746, he recognises sensation alone as the one 
source of our ideas. He leaves out of view reflection, and resolves all our spiritual 
ideas into sensations, as rendered more energetic by attention, and as recalled by the memory under the 
laws of association. In his Treatise on The Sensations, 1754, he gives a subtle analysis of the operation 
of the several senses as acting singly and in combination. His Logic deserves also to be consulted for 
careful and precise definitions of the several acts of knowledge. But, the Traiie des Sensations is re- 
markable for its ingenuity and its consistency, as well as for its oversight of some of the most important 
elements in the phenomena which, the sense-perceptions involve. The doctrines of Condillac anticipate 
many of the views of Dr. Thomas Brown, of the school of Herbart, as well as those of the modern 
Cerebraliets. Those most distinctive are the following : 

1. The mind is passive in the acquisition of its sensations, because the cause which produces them, 
is from without ; when these are recalled, it is active, because their reproduction is owing to a cause 
within, viz. ; the memory. In neither case is the mind conscious of effort. It knows only the different 
quality of its sensations. A strong sensation is ordinarily from a real object, a weaker one is recalled by 
the memory. All the conceptions which Condillac expresses concerning the sensations, are in entire 
consistency with this view. The human being is represented as a statue to which the several senses are 
supposed to be imparted or at least the capacities for experiencing them, beginning with smell and end- 
ing with touch. Each of these sensations is a purely subjective experience, indicating at first not even 
the ego which is the subject of them, much less the existence of the body, or the relations of extension 
or externality. The senses of touch and of sight are as entirely spiritual as the others ; single sensa- 
tions of each suggesting neither time, extension, nor externality. (Traiie d. S., p. 1. c. ii. § 11.) 

2. The modifications of the soul from present objects are sensations ; the same, when recalled by the 
memory, are ideas. All ideas are simply reproduced or transformed sensations. A single sensation 
occupying the soul exclusively is a state of attention. Two sensations or ideas experienced together 
constitute comparison, and comparison involves judgment or the sensation of difference or likeness. 
But in attention, memory, comparison, or judgment, there is nothing required but the coming and going 
of sensations and ideas under the stimulus of association. All these, usually conceived as activities of 
the soul, proceeding from and referred to the personal self, are no more nor less than simple states of 
existence that are pleasant or painful, involving necessarily no reference to the subject of them by him- 
self, or to an object not himself. 

3. The knowledge of extension arises on occasion of the sensations of touch. Several sensations are 
experienced at the same time, as in the head, the fingers, tho stomach, and the feet. The soul cannot 
experience them distinctly, i. e. attentively, together, without separating them one from another— i. e., 
without viewing them apart, or as occupying space. But this feeling of extension is only vague, and 
without involving either the knowledge of any thing material, or of the measures of space. (Traiie, d. S. 
p. 1, c. iii. §§1, 2. 

4. Body and matter are discovered by the application of the hands to the surface of one's own body, 
coupled with the experience of sensations within this surface. In this way the soul learns its own body, 
which is nothing but certain sensations of touch, bounded by others. Having learned its own body, it 
learns other bodies—/, e., material things. By moving its arms, and not finding objects within its reach, 
It gains its knowledge of space as distinguished from the extended objects which occupy it. 

Material objects are simply collections of sensations, qualities being sensations only. The extended 
sensations of touch,or tho sensations of touch conceived as extended, form tho substance with wh ; cli tho 
other sensations are connected as qualities. Timo is but a series of consecutive sensations along which tho 
memory passes with ease by a ready association. 

The Theory of Condillac is a theory that recognises sensations only, and does not provide for th* 



§209. 



THEOEIES OP SENSE-PEKCEPTIOX. 241 



knowledge of the ego, or the non-ego, or for the apprehension of space or time. All the professed 
explanations of the origin of these conceptions, or of the time when, or manner in which, they are gained 
by the mind, are inconsistent with Condillac's fundamental principles. The principles of his theory 
provide only for sensations, passing and repassing through the mind as shadows come and go over a 
field, and they exclude even the possibility of consciousness, much more of perception as acts of proper 
knowledge. 

The theory of Condillac was that generally accepted in Prance for nearly three quarters of a century, 

till the beginnings of a better system, under Laromiguiere, Royer-Collard and Maine de 

Biran. 
n-^lsf7 Uiere ' P ' § 208# laromiguiere delivered lectures on philosophy in 1811 and 1812, in which, while 

seeming to supply certain defects in Condillac, he taught principles that were entirely 

inconsistent with his system. (Legons de Philosophie sur les principes de VinleUi- 
gence, etc. Paris, 1826.) 

First of all, he asserted the activity of the soul in the acquisition of all its knowledge. In sensation, 
he held that the mind is passive. But in acquiring knowledge by sensation, the soul is both active and 
passive, it being passive as sense and active as the understanding. The understanding is the common 
appellation for the three faculties of attention, comparison, and reasoning. Attention is always required 
in any act of sense-perception. Comparison and reasoning are necessary for many of the more com- 
plicated objects. The acts and ideas of sense-perception are the joint product of the sense and under- 
standing. 

Laromiguiere does not discuss in detail the special conceptions or relations of extension and of 
externality, and, indeed, rather furnishes materials for a theory, than actually applies them. 

§ 209. This distinguished philosopher and publicist exerted a far more powerfu. 

influence than Laromiguiere on the theory of sense-perception, as he also did upon 
P °p G IT63-4845 speculative philosophy. His lectures were delivered in the same years with those of 

his associate, and portions of them were published by Jouffroy in connection with his 

translation into Prench of the works of Eeid. This was eminently appropriate, 
inasmuch as his theoiy was suggested and matured under the impulse given by the perusal of Reid's 
Essays. It is in effect the same theory in its principles, only more exact and complete in its details. 
The additions which he made to it are similar to those which were suggested by Dugald Stewart, at a 
somewhat later period, but without the knowledge that Collard had made those which, were similar. 
The contributions of Collard are, however, more in the spirit of a profound and exhausting system than 
those proposed by Stewart. The chief points made by him are as follows : 

1. He distinguishes sensation and perception in the same manner, and with no greater exactness 
than Reid and Stewart. Sensation is co-extensive with all the senses, but perception is restricted to 
sight and touch — preeminently to touch. 

2. In perception by touch we know impenetrability and extension, or a solid and extended some- 
thing. But this is not all that we know. ¥e proceed to affirm them as qualities or attributes of a substance 
which is not ourselves. In the sensation occasioned by a hard body, I am affected in a particular 
manner. This is the sensation ; and I at once refer this to a something different from myself. But I 
do more : I confidently believe that this something existed before I touched it, and that it will exist 
afterward. I enlarge my knowledge still more ; I believe that this enduring something is the cause of 
those modifications called sensations. My perception involves, therefore, the relations of externality, of 
substance, of duration, and of causality. 

3. These conceptions or relations are attributed to the external world by a process termed induction, 
or natural induction. This term is substituted for the suggestion of Reid, and the propriety of using it is 
explained and justified by the analysis given of the process itself. For, according to Collard, it is in 
some sort a process, and not a simple intuition, such as Reid would make it to be. The intellect 
proceeds on this wise. It observes by consciousness what happens to itself. It is conscious of its own 
states as modifications of its own ego, or, in other words, it knows the relation of attributes to substance 
to be true of itself. In like manner it knows itself to continue to exist, and thus is aware of itself as 
enduring. Moreover, it knows itself to be the cause of its own actions. Finding these relations of 
substance, duration, and causation in its own inner experience, it transfers them to objects without, by 
what Collard calls induction ; which is not, however, founded on probable evidence, or conducted by 
analogy, but necessary and original to the soul. 

4. In a way similar to that in which unlimited and necessary duration is affirmed on occasion of the 
experience of limited time, we pass from the limited extension of which we are cognizant by touch to 
unlimited and necessarily existing space. This also is by induction. 

It is not till external objects are thus known in all these relations of substance, space, time, and 
causality, that perception is accomplished. 

5. The reference of those qualities which are thus known by conscious modifications and relations^ 
of the soul itself, to the objects which have been previously perceived, is a subsequent process, and hence 
these qualities are said to be secondary, while the others are called primary. Whether color is a primary 
or secondary quality, Collard does not discuss nor decide. 

16 



242 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §210, 

§ 210. This profound and noble thinker was intimately associated -with Collard in 

1811-'12— years so memorable for the dawning of a better philosophy in France. He 
Fp'g 1^66-182*' J ustl y deserves to be ca l le< l tne moet profound and original French metaphysician of 

the present century. He made some important contributions to a better theory of 

sense-perception. 
1. He boldly asserted and successfully defended the activity of the mind in sense-perception. It 
was the central doctrine of his philosophical system, that the mind knows itself as an agent or cause. 
To the vindication and inculcation of this truth he devoted his chief energies, and for the original and 
independent manner in which he reached this position for himself, and developed it to others, he merits 
the honors of a discoverer and an eminent philosopher. In sense-perception, he held that the mind is as 
truly active as it is passive ; and it is by distinguishing between its passive reception and its active 
exertion that we are enabled to explain the various phenomena which require solution. The mind 
knows itself as an individual cause or agent. This knowledge is distinct from that which it has of itself 
as a substance, as well as from its knowledge of substance in general. We begin with this as a datum. 
We know this fact by inner experience. We exercise individual force in individual activities. We know 
this fact best and most certainly of all facts, and we constantly employ and imply it in all our othei 



2. He made great advances toward a correct view of the physiological conditions of sense-percep- 
tion. The element furnished by these conditions, he sharply distinguished from that contributed by the 
mental or psychical agent. His physiological views are far more profound than those of Descartes. He 
is preeminent above Locke, Reid, Stewart, Brown, and Collard, in conceding to physiology all the share 
of influence which it can reasonably claim in the phenomena of life and sensation, while he asserts for 
the intelligent soul a distinct and appropriate energy. 

He insists, with emphasis, on the reality and importance of the purely vital functions ; on the action 
and reaction which the appropriate vital stimuli produce and excite, in sustaining and furthering the 
life of the body. He recognizes also all the physiological conditions of sensation, and their capacity to 
affect the mind with more or less energy, and to be affected and directed by the mind's own active intel- 
ligence. In the writings of Maine de Biran, physiology first receives proper recognition and due honor, 
without being suffered to encroach upon the limits of psychology. Whether or not his views of physi- 
ology would all be accepted, those which are most essential are well-founded, and for the first time find 
their just recognition in the philosophy of sense-perception. 

3. He distinguishes and accounts for the origin of the two relations of externality which are involved 
In sense-perception. The diversity of the organism from, the spirit or ego is given by the manifest dis- 
tinction recognized by the mind between the affections of its own causative energy and those of the 
organism which often resist this energy and stimulate it to reaction. The exteriority of material objects to 
the animated or ensouled body is discerned through the muscular effort which the active soul is capable 
of employing, and to which it is stimulated by the reflex activities of the body itself. This muscular 
effort tending toward, or productive of effects as directed by the intelligent and active ego, is resisted by 
other agents than the organism which it animates and coutrols. The mind attributes this resistance to 
another cause than itself, by actual induction, or by the analogy of its own experiences, transferred to 
objects in space other than the man himself (Hamilton, Works of Reid, note D). 

The mind knows itself not only as a cause, but as a permanent cause. Through this, or in connec- 
tion with this, is given the apprehension of time. The knowledge of the organism with which the soul 
is connected, gives or occasions the belief in space. How, or by what process, Maine de Biran does not 
explain. He simply asserts the fact. He attempts no solution of the accompanying betief that both 
space and time are unlimited. 

4. He made more subtle and precise the distinction between sensation and perception. The human 
being, as body and soul, comprehends what may be distinguished as four distinct systems : the affective, 
the sensitive, the perceptive, and the reflective. The affective system includes those bodily capacities of 
being affected and of counter action, which are essential to the functions of life and of health ; many of 
which, through the intimate connection between the vital organs and the organs of sense, exert an indi- 
rect but a most powerful influence over the sensations themselves. Thus the various causes of a given 
condition of the brain or stomach or nerves, which in their operation and effect are wholly beyond the 
range of our sensitive appreciation, may directly or indirectly bring the organs of 6ense-proper, or these 
very organs when they become sentient, into a condition involving special sensations of pleasure or pain, 
or one modifying the quality or intensity of these sensations. 

The sensitive system is the capacity to be plcasurably or painfully affected by the 60ul as connected 
with the extended organism, either by simple reception of a stimulus, or the counter action to which the 
stimulus excites. As the sensation is always pleasurable or painful, it is attended with 6ome reference 
by the subject of it, to the ego which enjoys or suffers. But this may be the most indefinite possible, 
and, so far as it is simple sensation, it involves the vaguest knowledge of the ego— knowledge so vague, 
that the individual is not distinguished as an individual--nor is it separated from the extended organism 
with which it is united. Into this state wo tend to sink back when wo fall into faintness or sleep, or 
when delirium render? us incapable of definite knowledge or the assertion of individual energy in tb« 



§211. THEOEIES OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 243 

control and direction of the organic self. These sensations, and this sensational life, have laws of their 
own, according to which every sensation experienced leaves an influence, partly affective, in the hody 
only, partly sensational in the sensory, predisposing hoth to act again with more readiness in response to 
the approprate stimuli, and laying the foundation for greater ease in repeated and habitual action, as well 
as for the return of associated sensations in dreaming and delirium. The lowest form in which the sen- 
sational life is manifest, is in the so-called latent or dream sensations. None of these are wholly unre 
'iated to the ego, hut they are known only by the feeblest and the most passive cognition. 

The perceptive system begins its activity when the active ego knows and directs itself as a causo. 
By this criterion it distinguishes itself from its passive affections, makes definite and distinct its sensa 
tions in the different parts of the organism, and refers them to organs. It also distinguishes external 
objects from the organism, fixes them as beings in their places in the external world, and assigns their 
activities, as well as its own, to their positions in the series of time. 

These ijpo elements— the sensitive and the perceptive— are combined so closely in our actual expe- 
rience, that we do not distinguish them from one another. Each element acts also with varied intensity, 
so that we are capable of conditions varying from the purest and most passive animal sensation in which 
there is scarcely the smallest ray of intellectual activity, to that of the purest and most spiritual intel- 
ligence in which scarce a vestige of sensation remains. 

It is easy to see how, from these fundamental data, De Biran would evolve the distinction between 
the primary and the secondary qualities of matter. Those properties which are referred to their external 
causes or objects by direct and necessary cognition, are the primary qualities. Those which are indi- 
rectly, and by a secondary act of reflection, referred to those agents or causes which have already been 
defined and determined, are secondary. 

These views of M. de Biran produced a powerful influence upon the French philosophers of his own 
and of the succeeding generation. Where they were not accepted and reasserted in their detail, they 
were in their principles and most important results. Cousin devotes but little attention to any psycho- 
logical analysis of sense-perception. He is chiefly occupied with the more comprehensive relations of 
speculative philosophy. He has taken into his system a single feature of De Biran's theory of the per- 
ception of externality. Jouflroy did little more than apply the results reached by De Biran in the sharp 
and well-sustained distinctions which he drew between physiology and psychology. 

§ 211. In G-ermany, Leibnitz is the earliest writer who attracts our attention. He was 
•v, •+ n -TO - more °f a metaphysician than psychologist ; and yet he contributed some important 
1646-1718. * ' hi nts to tne theory of sense-perception, which have been worked out and applied by the 
modern school of Herbart. His follower, Christian "Wolf, wrought out his principles 
into a system of psychology, in which the definitions are very exact, and the doctrines 
of his master are rigorously and consistently developed and applied. We have already noticed the doc- 
trine of apreestablished harmony between certain states of the body and the corresponding affections of 
the mind, which Leibnitz urges, to avoid the doctrine of occasional causes, or of the constant interference 
of the Deity in every perceptive act. The doctrines of Leibnitz, in respect to sense-perception, are in 
his Nouveaux Essais, Theodicee. and Monadologie. Those of Wolf are given in the Psychologia Em- 
pirica and Psychologies Rationalis, Frankfort and Leipzig, 1732 and 1734. 

The peculiar doctrines of this school may be stated under the following heads : 

1. Definitions of sensation and perception. Sensation is the power or faculty of perceiving external 
objects by means of the changes which they produce in the corresponding or appropriate organs of the 
body. Perception is the power which the mind has of representing any object to itself. Sensation and 
perception are distinguished as a generic and specific kind of knowing. By the one, the mind knows or 
represents any objects whatever. By sensation, it knows objects by means of changes effected or indi- 
cated in the bodily organs. These significations are those to which these terms are limited. The con- 
ceptions appropriated to the two terms are not clearly, certainly tbey are not forcibly distinguished. 
Indeed, there is scarcely a trace to be found of the conception of sensation as the pleasurable or pain- 
ful subjective affection of the soul which conditionates perception. This is entirely consistent with the 
general doctrines of Leibnitz. The function of feeling in general, and the several kinds of feeling in 
particular, were all resolved by Leibnitz and Wolf into different sorts of perception or representations by 
the mind. Cf. Nouveaux Essais, B. ii. c. viii. § 15, for the remarks respecting the resemblance or corre- 
spondence between pain and the motions of a pricking pin. Appetite — i. e., conative feeling — is the 
tendency in the monad, of one perception to another. 

2. The act of perception is representative, and the result is a representative idea. This is a special 
application of Leibnitz's doctrine of monads. According to this doctrine, the universe of matter and 
spirit consists of monads, or ultimate particles, each endowed with a power to represent, or respond to 
every other monad, in accordance with its individual nature. Material things or objects, as we call 
them, consist of a number of these conjoined. A spirit is a single monad, of far higher powers to repre- 
sent than the monads which are material. What Leibnitz intended by the word to represent, is not easy 
to decide; and it seems necessary to believe that he intended by it to signify only, to be affected by, tG 
act, and to react, to have a relation to. Cf. Nouv. Ess., B. ii. c. 8, § 15. " De la ressemblance ou rap 
port exact," etc. 



244 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §212. 

In accordance with this general definition, an act of knowledge or perception is defined to be the 
representation as one, of that which is manifold or composite. The soul by reason of its superior nature, 
has the power to represent or reflect as one or as a whole, the composite material universe, more or less 
perfectly. Portions of the same it can do with a still greater degree of perfection — i, e., such as are near 
and strongly affect the organs of sense. 

By perception, we gain sensuous ideas. These represent to us only figure and size, situation and 
motion. It would seem from this that all our perceptions are of relations of extension only, and that our 
perceptions of color, smell, etc., might he resolved in the final analysis into the discernments of different 
motions or positions of the particles in the objects, their medium, the organ of sense or the brain. This 
is the only possible construction which can be put upon much of the language of Leibnitz and "Wolf. If 
this construction is correct, it is obvious that they entirely overlooked and confounded the distinction 
between the conditions of a sense-perception and the consequent affection of the soul. That they could 
have done so, is rendered probable by the circumstance that Locke often does the same ; tBht multitudes 
of physiologists are, at the present day, committing this identical mistake ; and even those psychologists 
who appear to know better, are perpetually falling into it. That Leibnitz should have done so, is the more 
probable if we reflect on the real import and logical tendency of his doctrine of monads, so far as it could 
be used to explain psychological phenomena. That this is the just interpretation of his views, will be ob- 
vious from the importance attached by him to the distinction between obscure and distinct perceptions. 

For Wolf's definition of idea, see Psych. Emp., § 48 ,* of a sensuous idea, id., § 95. For his doctrine 
of representation, see Psych. Eat., §§ 91, 92. "Wolfs language can only be construed as teaching the 
doctrine of mediate knowledge in its grossest forms, the sensuous image being like the material image, 
and the material image like the material object. 

3. Gradation of Perceptions. The perceptions are clear or distinct, on tho one hand, and obscure 
or confused, on the other. Examples of the latter are such as we experience when we are giddy or 
faint, or are just awaking from sleep. Such, in a greater degree, are experienced in profound sleep 
without dreams. 

Our ordinary perceptions, when at all distinct and definite, are examples of the former. VThen t( 
this distinct objective cognition, the mind adds the distinction of the ego from the non-ego, perceptioi 
becomes apperception. Hence, apperception is sometimes defined as the reflective or conscious knowl 
edge which the mind has of its own states, and sometimes as the knowledge of the non-ego. 

Every act of clear perception is attended by the obscure perception of many objects. Often it hap 
pens that the obscure or confused perceptions need only a slight addition to render them distinct, ar. 
" the perception of light or of color which we apperceive is made up of a great number of slight percept 
tions which we do not perceive separately, and a noise which we perceive but do not notice (apperceive) 
becomes apperceptible by a slight addition." It is by the superior capacity which the human has abov< 
the brute-soul, as well as by the greater perfection of its bodily organization, that his apperceptions art' 
so much superior to theirs. It is because he perceives so large a portion of the universe so obscurely 
that he is interior to the Deity. 

The doctrine of obscure perceptions figures very largely in the psychology of Kerbart, who also 
adopts many other of the principles of Leibnitz. M. de Biran makes a free use of his principles, though in hi* 
hands they often serve to point to a better and sounder application, and as clues by which he is guided to 
the truth of which they are but exaggerated and one-sided statements. Hamilton also accepts it in part, 
but adopts it with less than his usual discrimination and caution, vide Met. Lee. 18. 

4. Externality and extension. Every apperception gives the relation of externality in the way ex- 
plained under No 3. As to the relations of extension and space, these can only be understood by Leib- 
nitz's peculiar theory of both space and time. Space and time, in his view, are purely relative, and space 
is defined as an order of coexistences, or as the relation between coexistent objects. It must follow that, as 
soon as two objects are distinguished by an act of apperception, and are also apprehended as coexistent, 
they must be known to exist in space. The apperception of two such objects together, as non egos, of 
course involves the apperception of their relation to one another, which is nothing else than the space 
which the mind must distinguish from itself. 

§ 212. Tetens, (John Nicholas,) Professor of Philosophy at Kiel, in his Philosophies 

„ Essays upon the Nature of Man and its Development, distinguished himself as one of th« 

1736-1807! most sagacious and profound philosophers which Germany has produced. In some very 

important points he corrected and set aside the views that were received from Leibnitz 

and Wolf. 

His principal work, which was tho manual of Kant, is entitled Philosophischc Versuche iiberdic mens- 

chliche Natur und ihre Enlwickelung, Leipzig, 1772. Tetens deserves to be called the Reid of Germany, 

for the good sense with which he thinks and the clearness with which he writes. But he is far superior 

to lleid (whemhe criticises with great acutcness) in philosophical learning, as well as in the originality, 

subtilty, and sagacity of his thoughts. 

Tetens vindicates first of all tho reality of tho distinction between feelings and cognitions, as 
against Leibnitz, ne distinguishes between the emotions which are purely spiritual and the sensations 
whjch are bodily. He distinguishes also between perception as the cognition of any non-ego, and the 



§214. 



THEOEIES OF SENSE-PEKCEPTION. 243 



apperception of a definitely cognized completed material object, or complex of percepts united in a 
whole. He shows that perception, kiits lower and higher forms, involves the activity of the judgment. 
He insists that the mind, in all intellectual functions, is active. All these were very important, and for 
their time extraordinary contributions to the theory of perception. 

His theorj is at least questionable in some points of detail. While he distinguishes between sensa- 
tion and perception, he at times makes sensation itself a kind of perception, as when sensation itself is 
described as apprehensive of objects. Some of his language would seem to imply this. On the other hand 
ne distinguishes between the pure sensation and the intellectual cognition or consciousness of it, and 
finds, in the longer or shorter continuance, and the more or less definite character of different classes of 
eensations, the reason why some are necessarily referred to external objects by an intellectual judgment, 
and others 6eem to be merely subjective affections. It is never the original sensation, but its prolonga- 
tion or repetition, which leads to perception. The non ego of Tetens is uniformly the not body, as con- 
trasted with and distinguished from the embodied spirit. 

§ 213. Kant, the great metaphysician of Germany, has treated of sense-perception 
only indirectly. He has given no formal theory of its processes, but has metaphysic- 
Immanuel a ny analyzed its results, and thus has indirectly taught a partial theory of the power 

1724-1804. itself and its functions. First of all, he implies that the soul, in its sense-perceptions, 

is passive or receptive only. He contrasts the receptivity of the soul in sense with its 
activity or spontaneity in the understanding. He indirectly teaches, by the assumptions that underlie 
his whole system, that the process of sense-perception is not complete until the understanding, by the 
judging power, conceives under some of its forms, the matter given by sense. Had he distinguished 
between the natural judgments which concern individual things and their relations, and the secondary 
judgments that contemplate general conceptions, there could be little to object to in his theory; but this 
omission is fatal to its completeness and its truth. Sense stands on the one side as a purely passive 
receptivity of individual objects, and the understanding, on the other, as active indeed, but as concerned 
with generalized concepts alone. 

Of the relation of sensation to perception, Kant teaches that sensation gives the matter, and per- 
ception— i. e.,— intuition— furnishes the form. The form essential to any and every' act of external 
intuition is space. All material objects, so far as they are perceived at all, are perceived in some rela- 
tion to space — that is, they are perceived as extended objects. Kant recognizes this as a fact of actual 
experience. "But the facts he subjects to no further analysis, least of all does he examine farther the 
process by which the product is reached. Instead of studying the fact in its conditions and elements, 
he seeks to account for its possibility and the trustworthiness of its results, on the ground of specula- 
tive philosophy. For this reason, his discussion of space has an intimate relation to the theory of sense- 
perception, and the conclusions which he reached have entered into the discussions of all physiologists 
and psychologists since his time. This conclusion was, that space and time must be assumed as tho 
necessary conditions of our subjective experience in both consciousness and perception, yet we are not 
thereby authorized to believe in their objective reality. "We cannot, indeed, perceive any material object 
by means of the senses without involving necessary relations to space directly, and indirectly to time. 
It does not, however, follow that space is a reality. It is supposable, though not to us conceivable, that 
to minds constituted differently from our own, the forms, with the relations which they involve, should 
oot be necessarily assumed. Kritik der reinen Vernunft. El. lehre, ii. Th., 1 Abth. ; ii. Buch, 2, 
Hauptst. 3 Absch. 

In respeet to the reality of external objects, Kant recognizes the fact in our psychical experience, 
that material objects are not only perceived as extended and spatial, but also as external; or in other 
words, as non-egos. In sense-perception this distinction is necessarily involved. The act includes this 
as an essential element in the process, and its result. It does not follow, because the mind makes this 
distinction, that there is a reality corresponding to this non-ego. (1.) The non-ego as a being, is trans- 
cendental to all phenomena. (2.) It is posited in space which is necessary as a form of sense but which 
may be only an illusion. Kant undertakes to demonstrate, on the ground of speculative necessity, 
that this is impossible. He contends that we must assume that there is something permanent and real 
without, in order to account for the changing modifications within. Even the self, or ego, is not experi 
enced as a permanent something. It is only concluded to exist as the thought-conception of a spiritual 
substance with capacities for spiritual acts. All that we are conscious of, are our changing modifications 
in time. These can only be rationally explained by a permanent reality which causes them. Of the 
existence of an external world, we can be rationally assured, but of it, have no direct perception. 

The theory of sense-perception was discussed by the successors of Kant chiefly in its purely 
metaphysical relations. In the writings of Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel, still I26S attention is given to 
psychological analysis, metaphysical principles and relations being almost exclusively discussed. 

§ 214. Herbart, on the contrary, though holding a definitely-conceived metaphysical 
system, has given great prominence to its physiological development and its psycho- 
1776-1841. *' logical applications. His speculative views of the nature of the soul, of the elements 
of matter, of the nature of knowledge and its fundamental relations, of space and 
time, etc., are fully expounded by him ; but in connection with them he has drawn 



246 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 21d 

out a developed theory of the functions and processes of the soul. His theory of sense-perception rnaj 
be briefly stated as follows : * 

The soul, though a simple substance, is capable of being excited by the action of various material 
stimuli to various reactions of its own. Certain classes of these, when experienced, are sensations. 
A sensation is the soul's reception of, or its reaction against the material stimulus. The sensation* 
differ from one another in quality or kind on the one hand and in energy or intensity on the other. 

As the several sensations are experienced, each continues to exist in the soul, with a force or ten- 
dency to reappear. As soon as the favoring conditions present themselves, past sensations do reappear in 
the order of the soul's original experience of them. "When such a series is viewed [experienced ?] from 
one sensation as fixed it is viewed in time ; and by the mutual struggles or tendencies of several series cl 
experienced sensations to gain possession a second time of the soul without success, the mind forms tho 
idea of pure or simple time. 

The apprehension of time prepares the body for that of space. Sensations experienced and recalled 
in the time series, are disputed by other sensations and series of sensations that struggle to occupy the 
soul. To provide for the possibility of these mutual struggles, and under the experience of the pressure 
which they create, the mind constructs a conception of space first as occupied, and then as empty or void. 
Thus, time and space result to the mind as the effects of mutually blended or mutually repelling 
series of sensations. 

"When space and time are produced, that which is next developed is the apprehension of the differ- 
ence between bodily affections and material objects. This results from an experience of certain positive 
sensations, particularly those of touch joined with those of the muscular sense. A certain portion of 
space within the body is measured in every direction by various time-series of sensations, terminated by 
those appropriate to superficial touch. Other sensations we project beyond the surface of the body, at 
greater or less distances, all of which are measured by successive time-series of sensations, in experience 
or imagination. 

Sensations which do not occur within the space of the body, nor on its surface, as explained, are 
projected beyond — i. e., are apprehended as not within its space. This constitutes perception in the 
lowest, or elementary degree. Afterwards are developed apperception, or the knowledge of mental 
states by a secondary act of knowledge ; then the knowledge of substance and its attributes ; then a 
knowledge of material things, or of material substances with material attributes and space-relations. 

Herbart's theory of the sense-perceptions, though modified greatly by his metaphysical theory of 
real, or intelligible,— as contrasted with psychological — time and space, is yet, so far as the sense-percep- 
tions are concerned, substantially the same with that of Condillac, and not far removed from that of Dr. 
Thomas Brown, of Edinburgh. His metaphysical theory, being closely allied to the monadic doctrines 
of Leibnitz, is not in the least inconsistent with the purely subjective character of the phenomena of 
sense-perception. This is only another example of the vain attempt to develop the perception of the 
objective out of the experience of the subjective, and to explain the apprehension of extension and the 
space dimensions by theories which suppose them to be known already. 

§ 215. This gifted philosopher, theologian and scholar, deserves to be named for the 
very important contributions which he made to the theory of sense-perception. These 
bchleierma- were partly indirect, as he opposed so decidedly the current of the great leaders of 

metaphysical speculation in German, by rejecting many of the assumptions which are 
fundamental to their systems. In part, also, they were direct, in the positive doctrines 
which he taught in respect to the conditions and nature of sense-perception as a process. The relations 
of space, time, substance, and cause, he held, as against Kant, to be real forms of things, and not merely 
the forms of our apprehension of things. The reality of time and space must be assumed without mis- 
giving or questionings. Being is directly apprehended, as well as phenomena and relations. To all the 
combinations and constructions which we make in knowledge, we attribute actual reality. Thought, 
which, in Hegel, is the all in all, the originator of all power and products of knowledge, according tc 
Schleiermacher, is but a dependent attendant upon sense. In sense-perception there are two essentia) 
elements : the receptive, styled by Schleiermacher " the organic function,'''' and the a ]^iori or sponta- 
neous, called "the intellectual function.'' This last is an act of knowing by relation?, or thought, and, as 
bo defined, is an important improvement upon Kant and lleid, and even upon Hamilton. 

Schleiermacher, moreover, teaches that the two elements, the organic and intellectual, are present 
indifferent proportions in the different faculties and acts of sense-perception, anticipating in this tho 
law of Hamilton respecting the inverse proportion of sensation and perception proper. Cf. Dialektik, 
%% 107-114, §§ 118, 119, §§ 123-131; Psychologic, (L. George,) pp. 76-133. 

§ 216. The services of this eminent physiologist ought not to be overlooked. This 
distinguished man united in himself a completo mastery of physiologj', the rare ac- 
1801-lS rf 8 11Cr ' companiment of a just appreciation of psychological phenomena, and a competent 
acquaintance with speculative philosophy. In his analysis of the 6oul and of sense- 
perception, he assumes the reality of time and space. He sets in the clearest and most 
convincing light tho truth, that the sensations aro only varied forms of idiopathic affections of the 
several sense-nerves, which may bo produced by any stimulus whatever, from within as well as withou* 



§ 216. THEORIES OF SENSE-PERCEPTION. 247 

the 130(17. These affections constitute the matter of sense-perceptions. This, in all cases, is apprehended 
by the mind in more or less definite relations of extension, as modifications of the bodily organism or th« 
?ensorium. It is because the sensorium is extended, that its affections, when it is excited to action, giva 
us the knowledge of space-relations in material things. Even the visible universe is first seen in th* 
retina, as a picture no larger than the extent of the retina itself. This is afterwards enlarged and pro- 
jected by the mind. Hamilton was doubtless indebted to Miiller for some of the most important sug- 
gestions toward his own theory. Cf. Muller, Handbuch der Physiologie des Menschen, II. v. ; also the 
same, translated by William Baly, Lond., 1848. 

Of the later, mostly living German writers, who have contributed to the theory of perception, we 
need name only : H. Lotze, Medicinische Psychologies etc., Leipzig, 1852 ; Mikrokosmus, 3 Bde., Leipzig, 
1856-1864 ; A. Trendelenburg, Logische Untersuchungen, Berlin, 1840. 1864 ; L. George, Die funf Sinne 
Berlin, 1846 ; Psychologie, Berlin, 1854 ; H. TJlrici, Gott und die Natur, Leipzig, 1862 ; Gott und der 
Mensch, Leipzig, 1866 ; I. H. Fichte, Anthropologic, Leipzig, 1856 ; Psychologie, Leipzig, 1864 ; W. Vorl- 
ander, Grundlinien drier organischen Wissenschoft der menschlichen Seele, Berlin, 1841 ; A. Helferrich, 
Der organismus der Wissenschoft, etc., Leipzig, 1856; K. Fortlage, System der Psychologie, Leipzig, 1855 ; 
W. F. Volkmann, Grundriss der Psychologie, Halle, 1856; Th. "Waltz, Lehrbuch der Psychologie, Braun- 
Bchweig, 1849 ; M. L Schleiden, Zur Theorie des Erkenntniss dutch den Gesichtssinn, Leipzig, 1861 ; G« 
Th. Fechner, Elemente der Psychophysik, Leipzig, 1860; W. Wundt, Beitragezur Theorie der Sinne* 
teahmehmung, Leipzig, 1862 ; Fr. Uberweg, System der Logik, etc., Bonn, 1857. 






248 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §217. 



PAET SECOND. 

REPRESENTATION AND REPRESENTATIVE KNOWLEDGE. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE EEPEESEKTATIVE POWER DEFINED AND EXPLAINED. 

Representation is exercised after Presentation, and should be considered next ; the higher 
power of thought requiring the development of both the other powers. The power to 
reproduce cannot be employed until something has been first produced which can be 
revived or recalled. There must be experience in sense-perception and consciousness 
before material objects or psychical states can be brought back again by memory or 
imagination. Presentation furnishes the material or matter for representation. Repre- 
sentation is indeed largely mixed with presentation. What we call our perceptions and 
acts of consciousness, consist very largely of remembrances and images. But although 
presentation is perfected by the aid of the representative power, it is before it in the 
order of psychological development. 

§ 217. Representation or the representative power may 
defined? 11 a 10n be defined in general, as the power to recall, represent, 

and reknow objects which have been previously known or 
experienced in the soul. More briefly, it is the power to represent objects 
previously presented to the mind. It is obvious that in every act of this 
power the objects of the mind's cognition are furnished by the mind 
itself, being produced or created a second time by the mind's own 
energy, and presented to the mind's own inspection. It follows that repre- 
sentation, in its very essence, involves a creative or self-active power. 

Thus, I gaze upon a tree, a house, or a mountain. The object perceived is the tree, the 
house, or mountain, before my eyes. I close my eyes, and c my mind makes pictures when my 
eyes are shut.' I at once represent or see with ' my mind's eye ' that which I saw just before 
with the eyes of the body. One needs only to try the experiment upon the objects on which 
his eyes are now resting, to find an example of the exercise of the power of representation, 
and to mark the difference between its objects and those of sense. 

My eyes make pictures when they are shut. 

I see a fountain, large and fair, 
A willow, and a ruined hut. Coleridge. 

My father— methinks I see my father ! 
Horatio.— Oh, where, my lord ? 
Hamlet.— In my mind's eye, Horatio. Shakespeare. 

In like manner we hear a sound, either singly, as the solitary note of the pigeon, or 
several sounds in succession, as the caw, caw, of the crow, the roll of a drum, or the notes of 



§217. THE REPRESENTATIVE POWER DEFINED AND EXPLAINED. 249 

a musical air. Let the sounds cease. We can still distinctly recall tliem, and seem to heal 
them again with the mind, though the mind makes for itself all the sounds which it seems 
to hear. 

In a similar way we can represent the percepts that are appropriate to the senses of touch 
of tasting and of smell ; reviving the touch, taste, and smell by and for the mind alone 

Music, when soft voices die, 

Vibrates in the memory. 

Odors, when sweet violets sicken,. 

Live within the sense they quicken.— Sheliey. 

We are not limited to sensible objects, or to sense-percepts, 
sensibieobjects. in the exercise of this power. We can as truly represent 

the acts and the affections of the soul itself. Not only can 
we with the mind's eye behold the tree and the mountain previously seen, 
but we can represent the act of the mind by which we beheld it, as also 
the delight which the sight occasioned. We not only hear a musical air 
the second time, but we revive again the idea of the accompanying pleasure. 
So it is with the relations in which the objects were presented at first. 
The objects themselves can not only be recalled as objects, but they can 
be recalled as related, or as totals made up of the objects as connected by 
the several relations under which they were originally known. Whether 
these are relations of space or time, of self or not-self; whether necessary 
and permanent, or casual and changing ; whether intellectual or emotional — 
whether objective or subjective ; — whatever we apprehend in presenta- 
tion, can be recalled in representation. 

But the activity of the mind in this general function is not 
powe S r. a ° ' limited to the power of representing objects previously 

present. It has another power over the objects of past 
experience. It can so far modify them as to transform them into new 
creations. It becomes in this way, in an eminent sense, a creative power. 
It can combine together pictures of sense and consciousness of which the 
parts have been given before, and on occasion of such materials it can 
evolve what are worthy to be called new creations. That the mind pos- 
sesses this twofold power, all are conscious by the fact of exercising it. 
The mind not only can depict a man, a tree, or a mountain as actually 
witnessed, but it can alter the form, the dimensions, and the appendages 
or accidents of each, taking parts from the one and attaching them to 
parts belonging to the other. So, also, it can create or imagine a Lilli- 
putian, a Centaur, a Parnassus, an Abdiel. The representative power in 
this higher form is called, as we shall see, the fancy or the imagination. 

In the exercise of this power, of which these acts are examples, it is 
obvious that the mind is to be viewed subjectively and objectively. Sub- 
jectively viewed, it performs acts ; objectively, it furnishes objects for its 
Awn subjective apprehension. These objects are furnished from its own 
previous acts, or the several objects appropriate to those acts ; but when 
presented for the mind's inspection, they are objects to its apprehension, 



250 THE HUMAX INTELLECT. §218. 

Thus, if I recall a painting previously seen, my act in seeing it, my feel- 
ings or choices with respect to it — the whole, or any part of this complex 
activity, becomes an object to my present act. 

§ 218. The power thus to act is called the representative, in 
tti^power? 18 f ° r distinction from, and in contrast with the presentative power. 

In sense-perception and consciousness, the mind presents to 
itself for the first time the objects of its direct and original knowledge. 
In representation, it presents these objects a second time, or represents 
them. 

It is also called reproduction, or the reproductive power, because the 
mind, by its own energy, under appropriate circumstances and in obe- 
dience to certain laws, reproduces objects previously known. 

It also involves the power to retain and conserve, in a certain sense, 
that which has been acquired by the mind. To this capacity the name 
of retention has been given, or the retentive power. To these three dis- 
tinguishable relations of the power, Hamilton has not only assigned 
separate appellations, but has treated them as separate faculties, viz., 
the conservative, reproductive, and representative faculties (Met. Lee. 
xx.). The activity of the mind in retention and reproduction is so entirely 
out of consciousness, and so little can in any way be traced or conjectured 
in respect to it, that it seems more philosophical to consider and treat 
retention and reproduction as the conditions of representation, rather than 
as distinct faculties. It is implied in the power to represent, that there is 
a power to reproduce ; and in the power to reproduce, that the mind can 
retain or conserve. 

We have already (§ 47) distinguished between the capacity of the soul to provide and 
present, so to speak, objects for the soul to inspect or know, and the power and act of the 
soul to know or apprehend them when presented. This capacity is observable in all the soul's 
knowing faculties, and in all the forms of its knowledge. But it is especially conspicuous and 
interesting in the representative faculty. The process of furnishing the objects for the soul's 
cognition is purely psychical. The material conditions are scarcely worthy to be considered. 
The laws under which the objects are retained and given up are spiritual. They are also very 
numerous, complicated, and interesting. It is owing to the circumstance that these processes 
are so peculiar and so necessary, that, by some writers — as Hamilton — a special faculty has 
been provided of retaining, and another of reproducing, and another of representing the 
objects of the mind's cognition and recognition. 

It is also called the creative power, the constructive or productive 
imagination, when it evolves new products. This exercise of the repre- 
sentative power has rarely received a technical appellation. 

The terms of common life and literature which are applied to the various 
Appellations in forms of employing and applying representation are conception, memory, recol- 
common use. lection, reminiscence, fancy, and imagination. But none of them are used 

in a precise signification, so far even as the common needs of men require. 
Much less will any admit of a technical or philosophical application. Thus conception, which 
is taken by Dugald Stewart to signify the representation — as act and object — of sense-per- 



§219. THE REPRESENTATIVE POWER DEFINED AND EXPLAINED. 251 

cepts, is, both in common life and in philosophy, used to denote objectively the concept, no. 
tion, or general conception, and subjectively the power to form the concept, etc. Again, it 
seems, like Locke's idea, to be the common appellation for any and every object of the mind's 
cognition. Fancy and imagination are used now in a narrow sense for special acts of thf 
representative power, and again in the very widest applications of this term. No one of 
these terms is either popularly or technically used to designate the one power which, as concep- 
tion, memory, fancy, and imagination, is exercised under common conditions and in conformity 
with common laws. Some technical term must be selected and employed, and none is more 
appropriate than representation, or the representative faculty. 

This appellation, like many of those used in common life, gives prominence to the object 
with which the mind is occupied in knowing, rather than to the act of the mind in knowing 
it. It has already been stated, that the powers of the mind are better known and distin- 
guished by the objects which they produce, than by the acts through which they produce 
them. It is natural, therefore, to name and define the powers as well as the acts of the mind 
by or after the objects through which they are most distinctly manifested. 



§ 219. The objects of the representative power are, as has 
representative already been implied, mental objects. They are not real 
things or real percepts, but the mind's creations after real 
things. They are spiritual or psychical, not material entities, but in many 
cases they concern material beings, being psychical transcripts of them 
believed as real or conceived as possible. When they concern the sou] 
only, they are not the real soul, or its present acts, but psychical tran • 
scripts of the real soul in a past or possible condition of action. They 
are in no sense object-objects, but are preeminently subject-objects. A<< 
objects, they are distinguished from the act of the mind which apprehends 
them : as subject-objects, they are created by that very mind, and exist 
only for that mind. As represented subject-objects, they always indicate 
auother reality, whether spiritual or mental. The starry heavens which I 
see with the bodily eye, exist as a permanent occasion or object of vision, 
whether the eye is open or shut, whether it is attent or roving. But the 
starry heavens which I see with the eye of the mind, exist no longer 
than the beholding mind creates and upholds it in being. The mental 
experience which I recall is a real object while it is passing ; the same 
state as recalled, is an object while it is recalled and confronted as having 
been a fact. But while this representative object is preeminently depend- 
ent on the mind for its being, it is yet clearly distinguished from the mind 
which regards it, and from the feelings with which it is known. 

But though the object of the representative power is a 
aSno?gS£S! mental object, it is an individual object. By this character- 
istic it is distinguished from a thought-object, or an object 
of the intelligence. Thought-objects are both mental objects and subject- 
objects, and, in an important sense, representative-objects ; but they are 
generalized objects — they are universals. Objects of representation are 
like them in that they are purely mental objects, yet are unlike them in 
being individual. Whether we recall these objects, or create them — 



252 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 22 G 

whether we copy, as exactly as we can, from an original in nature, or 
create constructions the most fantastic, grotesque, or unnatural, they are 
all individual. Falstaff, Hamlet, Ivanhoe, Jeannie Deans, Don Quixote, 
Tarn O'Shanter, the Eden of Milton, the Faery Land of Spenser, are all 
individual beings in the imagination that originated, and the imagination 
that reconstructs them after their first originator. 

When we speak of the same object as recalled or recreated — when we assert 
thesJobjects are tbat tlie same individual object comes and goes, it will, of course, be under- 
the same. stood that the same individual object exists only so long as the mind keeps it 

alive. When, then, the same object is said to be recalled a second time, it 
is not literally the same individual, but it is copied after the same original, — the same as revived 
or recreated, and capable, in this sense, of being recalled again and again, though perhaps in 
each case with individual deviations. For example, I look at a tree, and then close my eyes 
and picture it to my fancy. I do it again and again, reproducing what we call the same 
mental picture of the same tree. The picture is the same, so far as it is a true mental copy 
of the same original. But each picture is itself a fresh and new individual product, and 
therefore a separate individual object. The same is true of the mental pictures of what we 
call original creations of the fancy. 

§ 220: The presented object was known by the mind not 
rSv^r^iatio^?" on V as a being, but in its relations, as of diversity, space, 

time, etc. ; so the object as represented, must or may be 
known again in all these relations, with all those in addition which are 
implied in its being represented. It has been abundantly established, 
that an object cannot be known unless the relations appropriate to its 
kind of knowledge are known also : so in represented knowledge we 
must be capable of recreating the objects in their original relations, as 
well as of recalling the so-called objects as such. It should be remembered, 
however, that a relation as such — i. e., a relation as separate from an object — 
as it cannot be apprehended by sense-perception or consciousness, so it can- 
not be recalled by representation. A relation, as such, cannot become an 
image or picture to the representative power (cf. § 424). 

The representative power, not only by the representative act 

Relations pecu- ,, , , . . , i • . , . , . . . ,. 

liar to represen- recalls the object in the relations in which it was originally 
known, but the existence and exercise of this power involves 
relations that are peculiar to itself. Thus, in recalling a tree or a horse 
previously perceived, or a mental act of knowledge or state of feeling, I 
not only bring back the tree or horse as extended and external, and the 
psychical state as subjective and in time, but, in recalling it, I must know 
it as a subject-object, and as having been previously perceived or experienced 
by myself. These relations are both necessary and peculiar to the repre- 
sentative power. The notice of them here is but an illustration of the 
principle that in knowledge of every kind the apprehension of some rela- 
tions is essential, and that every mode of knowledge has its special 
relations. 



§221. THE KEPKESENTATIVE POWER DEFINED AND EXPLAINED. 253 

For the objects of this power we have no appropriate technical name. The 
name for the ob- exigencies of common life do not require such a term, and the nicer distino 
power ° f tMS ^ ons an( * ^ e s P ec ^ a ^ applications of philosophy have not been established 

long and precisely enough to lead to the formation or the appropriation of 
any term with a precise and technical significance. The words image and picture might be 
properly applied to the represented percepts of vision ; but to speak of the image of a sound, 
smell, or touch, would be incongruous, if not offensive. Still less tolerable would it be to 
speak of the image — i. e., the revived impress of an act of knowledge or feeling. Conception 
cannot be accepted, as was proposed by Stewart, for it is too frequently applied to other and 
very different objects. Idea would be more significant, if it could be forced back to its 
original and etymological import ; but idea has, since the time of Locke, been compelled to do 
all manner of service, and been literally compelled to signify " whatever the mind can be 
occupied about in thinking" — thinking being held equivalent to every species of mental 
activity (cf. Locke, Essay, B. ii. c. viii. § 8). In the earlier days of the English language the 
representative power was called imagination, or phantasy, and then images and phantasms 
were appropriately and literally applied to its objects. But if it is impossible as yet to find 
a term like image to which we can attach a precise and literal signification, it should ever be 
remembered that the objects of this power are individual objects, as distinguished from the 
concepts, or notions, of thought. But, though individual, they are purely mental entities; yell 
while they are beings of the mind, they are, as objects, contrasted with and distinguished from 
the mind that creates and beholds them. 

Conditions and § 221. The conditions and laws of the representing power 
taSn re consid- should next be considered. The mind, in representation, as 
in the exercise of all its powers, acts under limitations and 
according to laws. That it can perform certain operations and evolve 
certain products, is to be explained only by asserting that it is endowed 
with, or finds itself possessed of a capacity to act in this or that manner, 
and to originate the appropriate products or results. Thus the mind finds 
itself, so to speak, actually perceiving, remembering, imagining, and 
reasoning. 

From the fact that it possesses and exercises a power, it does not fol- 
low, however, that it is exempt from the limiting constraint of conditions, 
and the regulating force of laws. 

In representation, man does not, like the great Originator, create «by 
his fiat or from nothing, his world of mental objects. It is only from the 
elements or the suggestions of past presentations that he can construct any 
representations at all. What he reproduces or constructs anew, is in some 
way dependent upon what he has previously experienced. But more than 
this is true. Not only must every thing which is represented be repro- 
duced from or by means of some past experience, but what is represented 
at any moment depends upon what was present the instant before. 

Thus : I see a person whom I have previously seen, at a place well remembered, under 
circumstances of peculiar interest. The sight of this person brings back, as we say, the image 
of each of the persons present, one after the other, of the words spoken, of the events which 
occurred, etc., etc., till the mind has wandered through a series of pictures, drawn from the 
acquisitions of the past. Each new scene opens new objects, from one to another of which the 
mind is carried forward by a force and tendency of which it is not aware, till on a sudden it 



254 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §222. 

awakes, comes to itself, and is surprised that it has wandered so far from its starting-place— 
wonders how it came to its present position, from which it vainly strives to thread its way 
backward. 

In such a succession of connected and dependent representations, we observe not only 
that one act is dependent upon another, but that they are connected by definite and distin- 
guishable relations. In one case the present object that suggests the object represented, is a 
material thing ; at another it is a mental affection ; at another it is an object represented only, 
which brings up another representation, — image suggesting image, one after another. 

These objects are connected, now by having been perceived or expe- 
rienced together i» making parts of a contiguous scene, now by having 
followed one another in the original presentation ; now, one presentation 
or image is like another ; or a presentation resembles an image and the 
converse ; or perhaps one was the cause, or the effect, or the reason, or 
the inference of the other. The fact that one object or image brings up 
another to the mind, is called the association of ideas. The conditions or 
laws under which the mind recalls one object by means of another, are 
usually called the laws of association. The term is open to exception, 
because both percepts and experiences are connected with images, as truly 
as images [or ideas] with images. The phrase is, however, too firmly 
established in general acceptance and use to be set aside. 

The conditions or laws under which the mind recalls one object bv 
means of another, are called the laws of association. The consideration 
of these laws is a prominent and interesting topic in the discussion of the 
representative faculty. 

Representa- §222. The representative power, though marked by com- 
into several mon characteristics and obeying common laws, is divided 
varieties. m ^ gevera i varieties or species. These are separated from 

one another by the completeness or incompleteness of the pictures which 
they make of the objects once presented ; by the fidelity with which they 
adhere to, or the liberty with which they deviate from their originals ; by 
the laws of association which predominate in each variety, and by the ends 
for which the power is exercised, and the uses to which it is applied. 

The most perfect exemplification of the exercise of the repre- 
rerfect memory, sentative power is an act of perfect memory. In order to 
know what an act of perfect memory is, we need only reflect 
upon the essential constituents of a presentative act, as already explained. 
Such an act is always complex, involving the object, the action, and the 
agent, united by their mutual relations into one indivisible state. If the 
object is material, it involves certain relations of space ; the action, being 
one of a continuous series, involves relations of time ; the agent, being 
of body and soul united, must exist in every act under relations of both 
space and time. When a single act of presentative knowledge is recalled 
in all these elements of object and relation, the representation is complete, 
and the act is an act of perfect memory. For example, yesterday I took 



§222. THE REPRESENTATIVE POWER DEFINED AND EXPLAINED. 255 

a walk to the top of a neighboring eminence. To-day I recall distinctly 
the landscape which I saw, in its minutest features — re-creating, as I do, a 
distinct and vivid picture of the scene ; and not only of the scene, but of 
myself as beholding it, with the actions before and after, with my feelings 
also in viewing it, and the very accidents of place where I sat or stood 
during the view. This is an act of perfect memory. It is perfect or 
complete, because it includes every element of the original. 

As time goes on, it is possible that one or other of these 
imperfect mem- elements should be recalled far less distinctly, or should be 

omitted altogether. It is possible that I should be able to 
bring back the landscape only as an object, and be certain, as I see or 
think of it, only that I once saw it before ; but how or when, or with 
what feelings or from what point, I do not recall. Or possibly the object 
may be lost, and the subjective feelings may alone be revived and recog- 
nized as having been before experienced. Relations of time and acces- 
sories of place may both be lost. Thus, when I see the face of a person 
in a crowd, I know that I have seen it before ; but when, or where, or 
with what feelings, I cannot recall. I remember a familiar passage of 
prose or poetry ; I know that I have read or heard it ; but when, or with 
what feelings or attendant circumstances, I cannot tell. All these are 
acts of what may be called imperfect memory. The representation is 
incomplete in some of its elements. Much of our acquired knowledge 
is retained and recalled by such acts of memory. 

Memory is not only distinguished into varieties by the greater or less 
completeness with which it recalls the past, but also by the class of asso- 
ciations under which these objects are represented. According to this 
criterion, we have the memory of space and the memory of time, the 
.spontaneous and the philosophical, the ready and the retentive, the 
natural and the artificial memory. 

But memory, whether perfect or imperfect, is clearly distin- 
piiantasy. guishable from phantasy, or the imaging power. This is 

representation without the recognition that the objects 
recalled have ever been perceived or experienced before. Examples of 
this are such as the following : I look distinctly at the front of a dwelling, 
the form of a horse, or the outline of a tree, each of which I wish to 
retain and make wholly my own. I close my eyes and picture each dis- 
tinctly to my mind. The undivided force of my attention is expended 
upon the object, and so successfully, that it becomes a permanent posses- 
sion as an object, without any accessories of either place or time. I may 
have travelled, and furnished myself with abundant pictures of beautiful 
objects in nature or art — of rivers, lakes, mountains, or wide expanses 
seen from lofty heights ; or I may be absent from home, and the home- 
stead, the accustomed apartments, the grounds, the garden, the beloved 
faces, haunt me with their presence. In all cases of disturbed fancy, 



256 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 222. 

often called phantasy, visions of objects seen before, but not remem- 
bered or recognized, throng in upon the soul. Especially if rapturous 
joy, poignant sorrow or harrowing remorse, have left ineffaceable impres- 
sions of scenes and persons beloved, hated, or feared, will these images 
re-present themselves without bidding. There may be no recognition, no 
knowledge that the object is familiar or has been seen or felt before. 
These acts are acts of imaging, called by Dugald Stewart, acts of simple 
conception. They are more likely to occur in those conditions of the soul 
in which the action of the reason is nearly suspended, or permanently 
set aside, as in reverie, dreaming, monomania, and partial or complete 
insanity. 

But the mind can do more than simply represent the past 
vSTes? 0115 " 8 witn greater or less perfection, with or without the act of 

recognition. It can recombine or construct anew the mate- 
rials which the past furnishes for it to work with or upon. In such acts 
it becomes imagination. Of imagination, as thus defined, there are several 
forms or varieties. 

1. The mind may neglect or leave out of view all things 

Themathe- . J -o ^ & 

maticai im- existing in space, and all events occurring m time, and form 

agination. k . P n . « . „ -i /» • 

to itself pictures of void space, and of time more or less ex- 
tended or limited. Within these voids it can make, by its own construc- 
tive energy, geometrical figures, and arrange series of numbered objects, 
and thus provide for itself the materials of mathematical science. This 
is the mathematical imagination. 

2. It can separate and unite the parts and attributes of 
rhantasy prop- ]3J ect;s an( j existences, both spiritual and material, in divis- 
ions and combinations which never actually occur. These 

separations and unions may be effected for no high end either of reason 
or improvement, in obedience only to the more obvious and the lower laws 
of association. Thus, the chimney of a house can be set upon the hump 
of a camel, and the ears or head of a donkey upon the body of a man. Or 
horses may be colored red or yellow. This is phantasy proper, whose 
effects or products are simply grotesque, or, as we say, fantastic. 

3. Objects may be recalled in wholes or in parts, and recom- 
Poetic fancy. bined and reconstructed under the obvious and more natural 

laws of association, in forms attractive to the feelings and 
approved by taste, for the ends of wit, humor, or amusement. This is 
fancy proper, which, as exemplified in literature and some of the fine arts, 
may be distinguished from the higher imagination. 

4. When the higher objects of nature and spirit are recalled, 
tion, in the recombined, and created, with the aid of the nobler laws of 

association, for the higher ends of ideal elevation and im- 
provement — when, in addition, the better feelings are addressed and 
excited, and the higher capacities of man are called into action, then the 



§ 223. THE EEPKESENTATIVE P0WEE DEFINED AND EXPLAINED. 25 1 

power becomes poetic imagination. The sphere of this power is not 
poetry alone, but eloquence, music, painting, sculpture, architecture, and 
landscape gardening ; inasmuch as all afford opportunities for the expres- 
sion and excitement of the sentiments and suggestions which dignify this 
noble form of the representative power. This is imagination as con 
trasted with fancy. 

5. When the combinations and creations are effected for the 
oi?inag S ination." purposes of research, invention, and instruction, and under 

laws of association which are grounded on scientific or 
thought-relations, we have the special application of the representative 
power which is called the philosophic imagination. 

The philosophic and the poetic imagination may be limited to special 
services of ethical improvement and religious incitement, and constitute 
an important element in ethical ideality and religious faith. 

8 223. The interest and the importance of the representative power is 
Interest and lm- „,,,„,,. . , . . 

portance of the enforced by the following considerations : 

tivepo e wer. nta " L First of all > tte exercise of tnis power ministers pleasure of a high 

order and in great variety, which is independent of the accidents of fortune 
and circumstances. The soul, from childhood to old age, delights in the pictures of its own 
creating, whether these are copied with simple fidelity from the beings and events of actual 
experience, or are painted for mere delight in the wantonness of fancy. Besides the interest 
derived from the objects created, it finds a satisfaction of the highest order in the very act of 
creating. Whether these acts are exercised by the infant in its endless combinations of play 
and sport, or the simple story which it rudely and painfully groups together of two or three 
incidents, or whether it is employed by the novelist or poet who constructs the highly-wrought 
fiction on which he lavishes all the resources of his knowledge and his skill, the pleasure of 
creating is the same. 

2. Man often flees to the unreal world of the fancy, to find rest and relief from the highly- 
wrought excitement of the too earnest and engrossing real world. Hence, in day-dreaming 
or reverie, he enjoys simple relaxation and not wholly inactive repose. Often the fancy gives 
more than relief and rest — it ministers positive solace and comfort. Ideal objects furnish 
associations more pleasing and emotions more satisfying than any which the experience of 
reality can awaken. The sick man forgets for a brief moment his actual weariness and pain, 
in the scenes of health and action which he imagines. The prisoner is enlarged from his celL 
The oppressed forgets his wrong. The homeless dwells under the shelter of a roof which is 
his own. The hunted exile, or the disgraced outlaw, returns to his country, loved and longed, 
for. 

3. This power is the necessary condition of all the higher functions of the intellect, and, : 
in fact, of every description of intellectual achievement, development, and progress. The 
thought is almost too obvious to express, that memory is the servant of thought and the 
conservator of our acquisitions ; that, without the record of facts, principles could neither be 
formed nor used. It was not by an idle fancy that Mnemosyne was said by the ancients to be 
the mother of the Muses. Were the mind limited to the objects and the activities of the 
present, it could make little progress of any kind. Thought would be almost impossible. 
Generalization, by which many objects are viewed as one, would be restricted to the few 
present objects that could be brought within the range of a single act of comparison. When 
the act was finished, it would be lost forever. It could never be reapplied to a new object, 
or be enlarged in its sphere. The new individual objects of sense and of consciousness would 

17 



258 TIIE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 224. 

also be isc lated. They could not even be named, for each would stand apart in the loneliness 
of its own individuality. Language would be impossible. 

The induction of principles and of laws would be excluded, for, however nearly the 
mind might infer that a common law controlled the objects perceived at a single gaze, neither 
the objects nor the principles learned through them, could present themselves a second time, 
the one to be exemplified or the other to be explained. There could ■ be neither invention nor 
discovery. Even in mathematical science both would be impossible ; for it is only as the 
mind imagines new constructions in space and new combinations in number, or their symbols, 
that it can develop new theorems or solve new problems. Creations of art would be excluded ; 
for the constructive brain of the painter and sculptor must go before or with the hand that 
guides the pencil and directs the chisel. The inventor in mechanics, the composer in poetry 
or music, the thinker in morals, philosophy, and letters, the deviser of beneficent schemes for 
human well-being, are each and all dependent on the resources of the imagination for every 
possible conjunction of cause and effect, of tendency and result, out of which to find what it 
seeks or to effect what it desires. 

We may say, indeed, that the representative power in the double activity of the memory 
and imagination are as indispensable to the higher intellect, as are the senses and the con- 
sciousness which furnish the material for it to work upon. The one gives this in the original 
form ; the other revives it with new freshness and in a more plastic condition. Ko more 
manifest or more serious error can be committed, than for the philosopher to decry the im- 
agination as injurious to, or inconsistent with, eminent scientific activity and achievement. 
Without the ministry and service of this subtle and ready agent, the thinking power can have 
only the scantiest material to work upon. According to its activity and its wealth are the 
reach and opportunity of the higher intellect. 

The practical uses of the imagination are not to be overlooked. It creates ideals of what 
we might be and do, which are far higher and nobler than any thing which we are or which 
we perform. It lifts us above ourselves and the examples we observe in real life, furnishing 
nobler standards to, which we may aspire. It constructs images of a better existence and of 
a better society than our residence on earth can furnish. It makes to us attractive sugges- 
tions of that Unseen Being, to whose goodness and greatness the highest and brightest of our 
imaginings can give us only feeble and faint approximations. A pure and elevated imagination 
is in many ways allied to a noble ethical nature, and favors an ardent and a sustained religious 
faith. If the representative power is so varied in its functions, and so important in its influ- 
ence and uses, it may reasonably attract our attention if we would truly know ourselves. 



CHAPTER II. 



THE REPRESENTATIVE OBJECT ITS NATURE AND IMPORTANCE. 

Our general view of the representative power has furnished us with three leading topics : 
The objects or products of representation, the conditions or laws of its activity, and the 
varieties of representation as determined jointly by these different objects and laws. We 
begin with a particular consideration of the first of these — TJie object in represen- 
tation. 
why the object § 224 - Tne product of the representative power, or the 
Sum n C S e spe- object which the mind creates and apprehends in memory 
ciai discussion. an( j imagination, has been the occasion of much confusion of 



§ 225. THE REPRESENTATIVE OBJECT ITS NATURE AND IMPORTANCE. 259 

thought, and not a little controversy. Scarcely any single topic has beei) 
more vexed in ancient or mediaeval philosophy, than the nature of ideas 
or representative images. As the term idea in the English language 
is applied to the widest possible range of objects, so these controversie? 
either include or trench upon almost every possible question in meta- 
physical philosophy, beginning with the images or species, material or 
quasi-material, that were supposed to be given off from every object 
perceived ; and ending with those eternal ideas which Plato and his fol- 
lowers held to be the archetypes of all created beings, and which they 
even hypostatized into actual and almost divine agents. These contro- 
versies and questions respect ideas of perception, of memory, of imagi- 
nation, and of thought — ideas a posteriori, or ideas of experience, and 
ideas a priori, or ideas that are original and necessary. But to all these 
the ideas of the memory and imagination have a very close relation, and 
hence a just determination of their real nature will go very far toward an 
accurate understanding and a satisfactory solution of the questions and 
controversies which concern the remainder. In respect to this class of 
representative ideas, three topics or heads of inquiry present themselves : 
I. The nature and mode of existence of the object which the mind remem- 
bers and imagines. II. Its relation to the original, from which it is 
derived and to which it is referred. III. The special service which it ren- 
ders in thought and action. 

I. The nature and mode of existence of the representative object. 

§ 225. These objects or products, as has already been stated 
SiobjectF" (§ 221 )> are psychical existences. They exist in and for the 

soul only. They are at once the products of the mind which 
brings them into being, and objects for that same mind to cognize or con- 
template. Whether they are transcribed from real beings and real acts, 
or whether they are created out of the materials or upon the suggestions 
which real objects furnish, makes no difference with the nature of the 
objects themselves. These are purely psychical and spiritual. It makes 
no difference whether the original is material, or spiritual; the idea or 
image of each and of both is simply a psychical object. 

In any state or energy of representation there is distinguishable the act and the object. 
These two can be distinguished, but not divided. When I represent the sun, or the stars by 
night, or my own act or feelings when I beheld them, the mental object which I contemplate 
is severed in thought from the mental act by which I think of them. They cannot be severed 
in time or in fact. We cannot by one mental effort, create the object and hold it in waiting 
for a second effort by which the mind turns upon it its apprehensive gaze. The two concur 
together. The one element is given and is present with the other. The creation of the ob- 
ject, and the mind's inspection of it, are as one. 

We do not here bring into view that concealed and subtle activity by means of which the 
mind retains or is moved to recall the object. This activity and this influence is out of con- 
sciousness, and is to be sharply distinguished from those elements which consciousness dis- 
criminates and records. It is with these only that for the present we have to do. 



260 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 227, 

. x § 226. The mental object is as transient and evanescent as 

It is a transient ,.,.., , 

and short-lived the act by which it is brought into being. In this respect 
the mental object is strikingly contrasted with objects that 
are real. The acts by which we know both psychical and actual objects, 
are for a moment. They die as soon as they are born. They cease to be 
at the instant in which they begin. But it is not so with these two con- 
trasted objects. The real object alone is fixed and permanent. To it we 
3an come and from it we can go, and find it still the same. But the psy 
chical transcript or creation is as shortlived and evanescent as the act by 
which we behold it. 

They should he § 227. The psychical objects of the representative power are 
from^ecteaind to ^ e carefully distinguished from those spectra or halluci- 
haiiucinations. nations which are the result of an abnormal or morbid 
condition of the sensorium or the nervous organism. The one are 
psychical, the other are psycho-physical. The one are spiritual in their 
nature, the other are dependent upon the soul as connected with the 
sensorium. 

Hallucinations, or spectra, are intimately related to those subjective sensations which, as 
we have seen, are caused by any excitement of the sensorium by means of subjective agencies 
as distinguished from material objects (cf. § 342). In certain conditions of the human system, 
the sensorium is capable of being so excited — sometimes by psychical and sometimes by 
physical agencies, and sometimes by both conjoined — as to give to the mind objects taken 
to be sense-perceptions, but which have no actual existence (cf. § 342). These are not 
properly representative images or ideas, which are purely psychical creations and objects, 
being created by a psychical power under psychical conditions, and having only a psychical 
existence. This psychical activity and these psychical laws hold intimate relations to the 
sensorium and the psycho-physiological activity ; but the action and the products of the two 
are clearly distinguishable, and should not be confounded. 

These representative objects are not only psychical, but they are intellectual 
They are intel- objects. It has been held by some that memory and imagination when 
lectual objects. ^ e j reca u p as ^ psychical experiences of feeling and of will recall the 

experiences themselves, and not our ideas of them, (a.) " It is not ideas, 
notions, cognitions only, but feelings and conations, which are held fast, and which can, there- 
fore, be again awakened." " Memory does not belong alone to the cognitive faculties, but 
the law extends in like manner over all the three primary classes of the mental phenomena " 
(Ham. Met. Lee. xxx.). This opinion of H. Schmid is apparently sanctioned by Hamilton. 
It is a logical inference from one of the doctrines which he seems to advance concerning 
consciousness. But if consciousness is an act of knowledge, and knowledge, when matured, 
gives, as its products, intellectual objects which we can recall ; then, as when we feel wc 
know that we feel, so, when we remember that we have felt, we remember our past feeling 
as an object known — i. e., we recall our idea of it (§ 75). Whatever this image or idea may 
be, it is not the feeling actually recalled as a real feeling, any more than the mental picture 
of the mountain which I remember, is an actual mountain. The feeling remembered, if 
pleasant, gives me pleasure ; but it is because I remember the object which occasioned the 
first pleasure, as well as the pleasure which it occasioned, that I experience this new emotion. 
The pleasure which I enjoy is not the original pleasure revived, but a fresh pleasure from the 
object recalled by the intellect, and perhaps a reflex pleasure from the fact that it is revived. 
But whatever it be which excites the pleasure, whether the exciting object or the pleasure 



§ 229. THE REPRESENTATIVE OBJECT — ITS NATURE AND IMPORTANCE. 201 

2xcited, it is the object, or the pleasure as remembered — that is, as an intellectual object— « 
which is apprehended by the mind. The representative object is not only a psychical, but 
it is also an intellectual object. 

II. The relation of the representative idea to its original. 

8 228. The represented object holds a positive and close 

The relation can a r : . . , -• -. . i • i • 

*»e compared relation to the real or original presented object, which is 

with no other. , .,, i -, • i--i 

sui generis, and can neither be resolved into, nor explained 
by any other. We say that the one is taken from or is suggested by the 
other ; that the one is true or false to the other ; that the one is known of 
recalled by the other ; that the one is like or unlike the other. What pre 
cisely the relation is which these phrases describe, it is not so easy to de- 
termine. It is important at least to distinguish it from those relations 
with which it is often confounded, and thus to clear away the many errors 
into which philosophy has often been betrayed. 

For convenience, we distinguish the objects of representation into two classes. 

Two classes of The fi rs t includes those which are copied or transcribed from originals in 

representa- A ° 

tive objects. nature — the objects that appear in recognition or memory. The second 

includes all those which imagination, in any of its forms, modifies or con- 
structs from the materials or suggestions which nature furnishes. 

We begin with the first — with representations transcribed from nature ; i. e., with the 
mental objects that are acquired by perception and consciousness — which are employed in 
recognition or are conserved in memory. In respect to all of these, we inquire, What relation 
do they hold to their originals ? 

Representative § 229. In answer to this question, we observe : (1.) That 
: C and the ideas which we acquire by consciousness or perception 



dTnoTresembie ^o not properly resemble them, either as parts to parts or as 
then: objects. wholes to wholes. Neither the single features nor the com- 
bined wholes of any mental transcripts can by any possibility resemble or 
be like the single features or united wholes of any material or spiritual being 
or act. A mental object is wholly incapable of being confronted or com- 
pared with an existing reality. One material thing can be like another 
material thing as a whole and as a part. So can one spiritual being, or a 
single spiritual act, be like another spiritual being or act. One tree can be 
like another tree, as a whole, or in one or more features, as in size, in 
form, in color, in fruit, in effects. One mental state can be like another, 
as one affection of hope or fear, of joy or sorrow. One act of perception 
can be like another act, in its occasions or attendant circumstances, or in 
its subjective quality. But the mental image of a tree cannot be like a 
tree, nor can the mental remembrance of a mental experience resemble 
or be like the original act or state. 

It is true, one of these may be loosely and vaguely said to resemble or be like the other ; 
but that this language is only employed in the way of analogy, is evident from the contradic- 
tions and absurdities into which those philosophers have involved themselves who have under 
stood it literally. 



282 the humatc intellect. § 230. 

We have seen (§ 201) to what contradictory and impossible conclusions 
Contradictions Locke's definition of knowledge, as the discernment of a conformity or re- 
in such a theory, semblance of ideas with their objects, exposed himself, and actually con- 
ducted Berkeley and Hume. This definition, literally construed, would, on 
the one hand, make the knowledge of real existences impossible, by placing the real object 
forever beyond the reach of the mind, if the mind could attain it only by means of the men- 
tal ideas between which and the original it could institute a comparison and discern a resem 
blance ; or, on the other, it would make such a discernment of resemblance superfluous, bj 
requiring that the mind should first know the original, in order to compare it with the tran- 
script. To say that, in order to know, we must discern that our ideas resemble realities, is to 
assume that we already do or do not know the original. If we already know these original 
realities, we do not need to inquire whether the representative idea resembles it. If we do 
not know the original, we never can acquire this knowledge by finding a resemblance between 
it and its mental transcript ; because, to discern resemblance, it is requisite that we should 
first have known the objects which we are required to compare. 

Many of the theories of representative-perception rest on the mistaken assumption, that 
what the mind first and directly perceives, must be some mental idea or transcript, and that it 
reaches the original or material reality only as it discerns a likeness or resemblance between the 
one and the other. The question would then continually be interposed, * How a thought-object 
can be like a thing ? what resemblance is there between a mental picture and a material real- 
ity ? ' To relieve this difficulty, third entities were interposed, partaking somewhat of the 
nature of the two — something material that was, attenuated almost to spirit, or something 
spiritual that was hardened almost into matter — a sensible species, a so-called material idea, or 
phantasm, which was conceived to have points of likeness with each of the two extremes of 
matter and spirit and served to establish the possibility of resemblance between them. 

in memory and § 230. We observe still further, that when we remember or 
discfrnmeSt ^f recognize objects which we have previously known, we do 
N e on| m in T s a irapie not di scern an 7 proper resemblance between the original and 
memory. ^ ts m ental transcript. For example, we look upon an object, 

as a house, a tree, a portrait, the page of a book ; or we hear a sound, we 
perform some mental act, or experience some feeling; and when the object 
is removed, we recall it in our memory. It were simply absurd to say 
that we recall the material object by its mental object, or that we remem- 
ber the object by its likeness to the mental picture which we revive to our 
minds. A discerned resemblance supposes two objects between which the 
likeness is seen ; but in an act of simple memory it is plain that only one 
object is before the mind. It is therefore clearly impossible that any re- 
semblance should be discerned ; inasmuch as two objects are necessarily 
required. In recalling or remembering a past object, event, or mental 
experience, we simply picture it as having been before discerned or expe- 
rienced in fact, and we do this by a direct act of the mind. This pecu- 
liarity in an act of simple memory was without doubt what Reid intended 
to notice and to emphasize in his assertion, which Hamilton criticises so 
often, that in " memory we have an immediate knowledge of the past." 

When we recognize a real object by a second or subsequent 
rSion in recog " ac * °* knowledge, we do not discern a resemblance between 

the object and its mental picture. In such a case we are 



§230. THE KEPKESENTATTVE OBJECT ITS NATUEE AND IMPORTANCE. 263 

said to recall the picture which we have preserved, and to compare it 
anew with the original, and in this way to recognize the object as like the 
picture, or the picture as true to the object. This is said with some plau 
sibility or verisimilitude ; for it may and often does happen that we turn 
from the real object to the mental picture, and again from the mental pic- 
ture back to the real object, till at last we are satisfied that the object is 
the same, that our recollection of it is correct, and our recognition of it is 
well-founded. But in all such cases there are not two objects before the 
mind, viz., the mental picture and the original ; and of course no resem- 
blance can be discerned between the two. The mind has to do with but a 
single object — now with the original, and then with the transcript. It 
reverts from the one to the other, but it does not properly compare the two, 
nor discern a likeness between them. 

When we discern likeness or resemblance, we compare two objects together that arc 
homogeneous, as two colors or two forms. But we cannot compare a real object and its men- 
tal transcript, by bringing them together in juxtaposition or in immediate succession. We 
cannot compare them by juxtaposition, for that would require that the mind should think of 
the same object as real and mental at the same instant. We cannot compare them in imme- 
diate succession, for this would require that we first know the image to belong to the object, 
before we compare it with the object, to discern whether the two are alike. That is, we must 
first remember or recognize, in order to compare and see resemblance ; while the theory 
requires that we first compare and discern likeness in order that we may remember and recog- 
nize. 

But if the relation between these objects is not a relation of resemblance, what is it ? 
For that some relation is discerned between them, is obvious from the experience of all men, 
and from the tenacious uniformity with which it is described as a relation of resemblance. 
We reply : 

The acts of The relation of the mental transcript to the original can only 

memory and re- -r o j 

cognition known b e understood by considering the acts of mind by which we 

by conscious- » o j 

nessoniy. acquire and recall them. The maxim has been more than 

once repeated, that the nature of mental products can only be understood 
by the mental acts which give them birth. To understand the relation 
of a transcript to its original, we must consider the nature of the act by 
which we acquire it, as related to the act by which we recall and revive 
the same. 

To bring these acts together, in order to compare them, let them be employed 
perception, alternately upon the same object. Let the eye be fixed upon some object, 
recognition. aUd as of a landscape, or a human face, and then be alternately opened and shut. 

In other words, let the eye of the body and the eye of the mind be occu- 
pied upon the same material picture and its mental transcript. In the act of perception I see 
the real landscape, or face, in its relations of extension, form, and color. In the act of repre- 
sentation, I seem in phantasy to see the same landscape, its extended surface, the several 
parts, their relation, form, and size, their lights and shades, and distributed color. It is 
pictured or imaged as real, but it is known not to be real. It is known to be created by and 
to exist in the mind. Both these acts are known to be real, and so are their products. One 
is known to depend on the other, in act and object ; the second, in its object, to be a mentaJ 



264 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §231 

repetition of the first. In the second, we say we seem to recreate so far as we can by the 
mind, the real or material object of the first. The capacity to create a mental transcript 
of a real thing is involved in the very power to remember. Each of these acts is original 
and sui generis ; and the relation of the one act to the other is as original as are the acts 
themselves. This relation cannot be compared to the resemblance between two objects of 
perception or two states of consciousness ; between two colors, or two forms, or two feelings, 
or two thoughts. 

As the eye opens and shuts upon the landscape seen and the landscape imaged, the real 
landscape is alternately remembered and cognized. When the eye is shut, it is remem- 
bered as having been seen. When it is recognized, it is recognized as the same which ive sato 
before, and which we had remembered during the interval ; but in neither case is any resem- 
blance discerned. It is involved in the act of memory, that an object perceived should be 
recreated by the mind and recalled as real, and also that, when the object is perceived, it 
should be recognized as the same which was remembered as mental. Moreover, there is also 
involved the knowledge that the object, as perceived and recognized, is real — either spiritual 
or mental — and that the object as remembered, was mental only. 

When it is said that the mental image is transcribed from the original, or represents it, 
the language describes an act and objects which are in one sense sui generis, and incomparable 
with any others. The nature of the product or object is determined by the mind's capacity to 
originate it ; and the authority of the mind to trust it and accept the objects which its own 
activities involve, is to be found in the fact that it finds itself, so to speak, spontaneously 
exercising the power. Concerning this peculiar object and relation we affirm positively. 



Mental pictures § 231# CO '^ ne m en tal picture affects the sensibilities less pow- 

less exciting 
than real objects 



ex ?ects g er ^ u ^y tnan tne perception or experience of the reality. By 



the supposition, if the original he a sense or material object, 
it must move or excite the senses, and this class of feelings are in their 
essential nature absorbing and vivid. If the experience be of a mental 
act or state, no recollection or transcript can match the reality in its 
power to interest and excite the soul. 

Different persons differ greatly in the power vividly to reproduce and make real the past, 
and as greatly in the capacity to be moved by it in their sensibilities. Some persons cannot 
revive a scene of pleasure or pain without ecstasy or horror ; the very picture or remembrance of 
any thing which they have enjoyed or suffered seems to revive much of the delight or pain which 
the original experience occasioned. But even the sensibility of such persons to the present 
and the real is usually in direct ratio to their susceptibility to the pictures which their memory 
revives. That the real object excites more feeling than the same object remembered, is 
assented to by common experience and confirmed by universal testimony. 

Segnius irritant aminos demissa per aurem 
Quam qux sunt oeulis subjecta fidelibus, et quss 
Ipse sibi iradit spectator.— Hon. Be Art. Poet. 

O, who can hold a fire in his hand, 

By thinking on the frosty Caucasus 1 

Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, 

By hare imagination of a feast ?— Shakespeare, Rich. II. 

Sometimes, indeed, it happens that a recollected object excites stronger feeling than the 
object when directly cognized. Thus, a scene of suffering may be witnessed with little 
emotion, which cannot be revived in thought without shuddering. Thus, friends and oppor- 
tunities are valued far less when we have them, than when we think of them after they are 



§233. THE REPRESENTATIVE OBJECT ITS NATURE AND IMPORTANCE. 2GF 

gone. This comes from the circumstance that, when the object was present, we failed t« 
attend to or rightly estimate its value or its real character. Memory corrects our careless 
observation or our mistaken judgments, and so opens our sensibilities to more vivid emotions. 

a mental picture § 232. (2) The mental picture consists of fewer elements than 
elements thlma the original. It is but a scanty outline, as contrasted with 
its fulness — a skeleton, as compared with its roundness and 
life. We look at a real tree, and in the background there is the confused 
or vague perception of the undistinguished mass of form and color, while 
from it is projected in bold relief a few prominent parts, that attract and 
hold the attention. The mental picture of the same, when most success- 
fully taken by the best observer, and after the most attentive inspection, 
is but a meagre transcript of a few of those details which the attention 
caught ; while of the multitude that were only confusedly apprehended, 
scarcely can a trace of one, here and there, be recalled. If we test by the 
reality the best picture that we can frame in the fancy, we are surprised 
at the poverty of the one and the richness of the other. 
The mental pic- 8 233. (3) The mental picture is recalled in parts under the 

ture is recalled ? , , . , , , . 

m parts, siowiy, laws by which one suggests another, and is constructed 

and by succes- .. ., __,, _. _. ... . ,, 

eiveacts. with comparative slowness. I he reality displays its wealth 

of detail as coexistent, to a single view. Or, if we study its details with 
attentive analysis (§ 187), we do this with inconceivable rapidity, under 
the guidance and suggestion of the object itself. The object, when 
re-created in memory, is re-created in the several parts of which it is com- 
posed : if a material object, in the several sense-percepts which make it a 
thing or whole. If it is extended in space, or manifold or irregular in out- 
line, the parts of the surface and outline must be recovered one by one, 
under the laws of association, and by acts that are successive to one 
another in time. This fact has led many psychologists to reason that 
our ideas and notions of space and space-objects can be resolved into and 
originally consist of relations and notions of time. 

To illustrate these contrasted features, we need select but a single example. 
Example from a . . . - ' . . ° 

scene in nature, It is a precipice up which we gaze. Iirst it impresses us as a whole, diver- 

membered. t& " s ^ e ^ by its varied features. Here are the broad faces of perpendicular or 

impending rock. These are buttressed by slopes strewn with accumulated 

fragments. Here and there are bushy crags and scattered boulders. The whole cuts against 

the sky with a notched outline, fringed here and there with nodding herbage, or broken by 

some daring tree, that, stayed upon its uncertain footing, reaches out and up toward heaven. 

If all this is apprehended by sense-perception, the quick eye first surveys the whole with a 

rapid sweep, then runs hither and thither, as it is caught and led by some salient feature, the 

rock itself bringing out new material faster than the mind can appropriate it, impressing the 

feelings with new emotions of wonder the longer we strive to master its wealth. 

Let us seek to image that rock in the mind, at evening, when we are just returned from 

a fresh gaze upon its front. In place of the exhaustless confusion of the vaguely-seen whole 

to guide and excite the eye, there slowly presents itself the scanty framework of the few parts 

which can be recalled by the mind. These parts are recovered one by one, as the mind rests 

upon what is already present, and brings back in fragments, and by repeated efforts, that which 



266 THE HUMAX INTELLECT. § 234. 

it suggests. However exciting the effort to recall and to reconstruct, and however pleasing 
the picture that is recalled, yet the impressiveness and exciting power of the reality are wholly 
Wanting. 

The objects which the imagination in any way combines and 
agination! ™" creates do not differ greatly from those which the memory 

transcribes, in their relation to the real existences of matter 
or spirit. The only material difference between the two can be expressed 
in a word — the one represents real, the other possible existences ; the 
originals of the one in fact exist, and have in fact been perceived or 
experienced ; realities corresponding to the other might exist. In every 
other respect the two classes of objects coincide. 

When we say, ' Might exist,' so far as the perception or consciousness are concerned, we 
do not assert that they might be believed or supposed to exist in consistency with the known 
agencies and laws of nature in matter and spirit, but that the relations involved in the' direct 
experiences of the facts of nature would allow them really to exist and to occur. 

How greatly and in how many particulars imagined objects may be varied from the 
originals of nature, and what are the limits within which the imagination can use its power 
to create and combine, will be considered hereafter. P. II. c. v. 

III. The usefulness of ideas in thought and action. 

8 234. The special service of the products of the repre- 

In thought, we". r _ * m m x 

prefer ideas to sentative power for thought and action remain to be con- 
sidered. It has already been observed (§§ 52, 170), that the 
process of perception, or consciousness, is normal and complete when it 
results in an idea or image — i. e., when a transcript of the individual 
object is prepared for future recall. The usefulness of these acquired 
facts and of these imagined possibilities of nature will be accepted by 
every one. Their absolute indispensableness to secure the past, and to 
give range and reach to invention, is obvious to every mind. But it 
is not clearly, certainly it is not generally acknowledged, that, for the 
purposes of thought, remembrances are often better than percepts, and 
that the pale and scanty images which the mind creates are often superior 
to the fresh experiences wilich life presents. We often even prefer to 
employ mental images, when we might avail ourselves of actual obser- 
vations. Very often we take fresh observations for the sole purpose of 
giving accuracy and assuredness to our ideas or mental representations. 
Often, when we seem to ourselves and others, to generalize or reason 
about things observed and experienced, we reason not about the things, 
but about our ideas of them. We often turn the fact into a mental pic- 
ture or recollection, even while our eyes, our ears, or our attent conscious- 
ness seem to be occupied with a present reality. 

The idea pre- Tne reason is, that the image, provided it be correct, pre- 
tSes 'than f the sents to tne min< * fewer elements than the reality, and 
reality. therefore does not distract, but aids the attention in the 

activities of thought. Moreover, the elements which it includes are 



§235. THE REPRESENTATIVE OBJECT — ITS NATURE AND IMPORTANCE. 267 

usually the very elements or features with which thought concerns itself 
For this reason recollection often guides thinking, and aids it in its work. 

When we change our perceptions into ideas, or ideate our intuitions, 
we retain only what we attend to ; hence the image presents fewer points 
or elements than the original. We are likely to attend to what is most 
important, especially if we bring to our observations an eye instructed by 
the previous training of thought, or the experiences of scientific inquiry. 
A mind that is disciplined will of necessity direct the observations of 
things to those features with which thought is concerned; and these 
points will remain recorded in the memory for thought to classify, or be 
recbmbined in the imagination, for thought to invent and to explain. 

In a certain sense, representation abstracts while it revives ; as it omits much of what it 
perceives or feels, and retains only what it cares for. 

When the mind proceeds to compare, to classify, to reason, and to account for, it can 
work more readily with these abstracts from things than with the things themselves ; because 
the attention is not disturbed by the feelings and desires which realities are likely to awaken ; 
because unimportant and trivial individual features do not suggest accidental and distract- 
ing relations, and because, also, the ideas of things can be summoned more rapidly and 
crowded more closely, and of course compared more readily, than the same number of things, 
In so simple an act as to compare twenty apples, in respect to any general feature, the imagi- 
nation or memory helps the eye. When we seem to look upon the objects, we ponder upon 
their images. Hence, in observations of things which are accompanied with any comparative 
analysis or judgment, we close and open the senses by alternate acts. We close the sense, 
that we may with undistracted thought think or judge of the image which it gives. Wo 
open and use it again, that we may correct or fix the image by or upon which we think. 

ideas especially § 235, When the range of objects is wider than any actual 
useful in com- observations of sense or consciousness, when most of the 

parison. m ' 

objects to be compared and judged in thought, are removed 
from any direct inspection of present activity or experience, it is obvious 
that the materials on which we work must be images chiefly. When we 
compare the flower or the mineral which we see with those which we 
have seen in places and times that are remote, we first ideate the flower 
or mineral before us, in order that it may be susceptible of comparison 
with those which are known only as images. Things can only be com- 
pared with things, images with images ; things must therefore be con- 
verted into or viewed as images, before they can be compared with what 
are images already. 

in higher gene- As the mind widens its range of materials for thought, and 
fe^r tl0 eilmlnts l r i se s to higher generalizations, its images of things will need 
are required. to cons i st f s tiU fewer features— viz., those only which it 
needs to use in classification or reasoning. So far as it brings before its 
view concrete realities or individual examples, these need only contain 
those parts or elements which come into use in generalization, induc« 
tion, or argument. The plastic power of representation here comes into 



268 THE HUMAST INTELLECT. §237 

play, which can readily omit all that it is not necessary to consider and 
can easily supply every thing that illustration or discovery may need. 



§ 236. Kepresentation can go so far in its abstractions as to leave but a 
^rvicef* of the mea g re outline, a mere skeleton of a concrete thing, or group of things. 
schema. Such a skeleton has been called a schema. Such a schema or outline-image 

has been held not only to be the necessary condition for the formation and 
use of concepts, but it has been also contended that it is like the concept, in being general, and 
equally applicable to every individual thing to which the concept is applicable. For example, 
when we speak or think of such general terms or notions as horse, dog, or flower, it is urged 
that the mind frames a schema, or outline-image of the form or other relations of each, which 
is equally suitable to every individual horse, dog, or flower. This schema, it is urged, differs 
from the concept in that it is not divided or severed into constituent elements, each one of 
which is regarded as an attribute of a substance, but it remains as an extremely abstracted 
whole, which may be applied to every individual horse, dog, or flower. Thi3 view contradicts 
the doctrine which we have laid down, that the object in representation is always individual, 
and never general. It is true, as is asserted, that we usually connect some image with a 
general concept. We cannot easily use general terms, without picturing or illustrating them 
to the imagination (cf. § 424). But the image of a horse or dog need not be general, because 
it is very scanty or meagre in its features. Suppose it to be merely the outline of a horse's 
form ; suppose it to be furnished with a horse's ears, or mane, or tail ; so far as it is imaged, 
it must be individual. The reason why it seems to be general, is, that it is so readily changed 
when it is brought into contact with a real horse. Being a creation of the imagination, it can 
be changed by addition or omission, so as to conform to the horse before us. Or, if no real 
horse is perceived, the individual image with which we exemplify the concept is known in all 
the features with which we endow it, to stand for every real horse which we chance to perceive, 
or which we choose to imagine. It is more correct to say that the schema is representative 
rather than general. It is capable of being readily compared with every object of its class, 
und hence its preeminent utility. Kant, Krit. d. r. Vernunft u. Prol. ; Schleiermacher, Dialektik, 
% 262 ; Vorlander, Grundlinien, pp. 390-392 ; A. Helfferich, Organismus der Wissenschaft, p. 97. 

The nature of the outline 'image, or schema, and its relation to the concept, will be still 
further considered under the concept. (§ 424.) 

We observe, at this point, that it is more than a mere conceit or fancy to say, that, as we 
vise from perception to thought, we interpose the image or idea as an intermediate stage, 
\being less gross and entangling than matter, and yet more substantial, definite, and concrete 
than thought. The image directs and aids the concept, standing, as it does, midway be- 
tween it and the percept. On the other hand, the idea, especially when directed by thought, 
reacts upon perception itself, making it more intelligent and productive, as it directs the senses 
to what features it should attend, and often anticipates what it will find. In this way aimless 
efforts are spared, fruitless voyages of discovery are avoided, and the energies of the mind are 
expended upon productive objects. 

§ 237. Not only do images assist in perception and thought, 
for and aid to but they prepare for and prompt to action. If we recall an 

object which formerly moved us to excited feeling and im- 
pelled us to prompt and energetic action, the thought of the same object 
is fitted to excite us again in a similar manner, in real or mimic activity, 
in body and in soul. To the human being who has been trained as body 
and spirit in the experiences of life, thought, feeling, and bodily action 
severally suggest one another in ready and inevitable succession, and the 



§ 237. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPRESENTATION. 269 

one element prompts and prepares the way for the other. If an action ia 
yet to be performed — if we are to sling a stone, or point a rifle, or throw 
a quoit, the image of the act and object held before the mind brings all 
the muscles into position, and makes ready for the act required the instant 
the act is called for. Hence, in the discipline for feats of bodily dexterity, 
a vivid and concentred fancy, a strong and kindling imagination, are of 
essential service, as they bring the powers into that position which effective 
activity requires. The same is true of discipline to mental exertion, so far 
as any purely spiritual activity depends on the distinct conception of an 
object. The thought of an enemy to be assailed, or of a wrong to be 
avenged, knits the muscles, braces the limbs, and convulses the features. 
The savage stamps with rage or shouts with exultation at the pictures 
which his fancy paints of his foe or his friend. The cultivated idealist is 
convulsed with horror at the pictures which his imagination draws of the 
scenes of cruelty which he reads of or conceives. He acts over again, in 
fancy, the part which he himself is ready to take in the depicted scene. 
So intense and vivid are his conceptions, that he breaks out in audible 
words of execration or rebuke, or stamps his feet with indignation, ov 
raises his hands in horror. 

When men are to act in concert ; as to row, or pull, or shout in unison, or to repel an 
assault, or to storm a battery, or in any way to use their united strength, their imagination 
must be brought into active service in anticipating beforehand the objects which will soon 
present themselves, or the kind of activities in which they are to engage. The ideal is far 
better than the real scene for the purposes of discipline and anticipation. The picture is 
greatly to be preferred before the reality. The real object may distract and bewilder as well 
as arouse and hold the attention. It may over-excite, and so unman. It may bring up un- 
expected objects, as well as those which are looked and hoped for. The reality, as compared 
with the idea, may hinder action, as it hinders thought. While, then, the idea cannot take 
the place of the reality, and discipline, by means of the idea, is of little avail unless it actually 
prepares for action, it is essential to such preparation. Nature has provided for this discipline 
by the strong impulse which she awakens toward it : she secures great deeds by first awakening 
grand pictures in the excited fancy. 



CHAPTER m. 

1HE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OP REPRESENTATION — THE ASSOCIATION OP 

IDEAS. 

We have noticed already that the soul, in representation, as in all its acts or functions, is 
limited to fixed conditions, and acts according to established laws. Though, at first, it 
seems to evoke its objects from the non-existing and the unreal, on a second and a nearer 
view, it is clear from our conscious experience, that what is represented is immediately 
dependent on the object or objects which at the instant previous were present to its 



2 TO THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 239 

apprehension or experience. What is recalled at any moment, though recalled by the 
soul's proper activity, is always recalled by means of the cognitions and feelings which 
the soul possessed the moment previous. 

Association of § 238 - The general fact or truth that ideas are represented 
Set s " various ^y means of ideas now present, is usually designated under 
term ?- the general title or phrase of - the association of ideas.'' A 

more careful consideration of the principle or law under which the represen- 
tation of the past by the present is conceived to be possible and known as 
actual, leads to the investigation of what are called the laws of associa- 
tion. 

The term suggestion has, by some writers, been preferred to associa- 
tion. They prefer to say, one idea suggests another idea, rather than, 
one idea is associated with another. This preference is partly a matter 
of .taste in words, and in part is grounded on the philosophical theory 
which one of these terms is supposed to designate better than the other. 

Some object to the phrase, The suggestion or association of ideas, because ideas are not 
the only objects or elements that are concerned ; real or existing objects or phenomena being 
as truly capable of exciting representations as the ideas or remembrances of things. Indeed, 
objects or acts perceived are usually more efficient than objects remembered or imagined, to 
bring up associated images or thoughts. It will be seen, on a nearer view, that this criticism 
is more specious than well-grounded. Besides, the phrase is too well established in general 
use to be easily set aside, even though the reasons for so doing were vastly stronger than they 
are found to be in fact. 

, 8 239. To seek to determine what are the conditions and 

Importance and ° . . 

interest of the laws of representation, is to propose an inquiry to which we 
are impelled by the intrinsic interest and even mystery with 
which the power itself and its actings are invested to all thoughtful 
minds. To answer this inquiry by certain definite principles — so far as 
such principles can be fixed — is an essential prerequisite to an enlightened 
theory of each of the special forms of this power ; as the memory, the 
fancy, and the imagination, in all their varieties. All these so-called pow- 
ers of the soul are, as has been explained, but special forms of the general 
power mentally to represent the actual past. They must all depend upon 
common conditions, and obey common laws. A just and well-founded 
theory of the association of ideas is a necessary prerequisite to a satisfac- 
tory theory of all these several powers. Representations are also always 
employed in the actings of the other leading powers, viz., sense-perception 
and thought ; and for this reason the consideration of the laws which regu- 
late their presence or absence is essential to a complete elucidation of the 
powers with which, at first, they seem to have little concern. 

Hamilton observes {Met, Lee. xxxi.), that " the scholastic psychologists seem to have 
fegarded the succession in the train of thought, or, as they called it, the excitation of the 
tpecieSj with peculiar wonder, as one of the most inscrutable mysteries of Nature." " The 
younger Scaliger says : ' My father declared that of the causes of three things in particular 



§240. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OP KEPEESENTATTON. . Ill 

be was -wholly ignorant — of the interval of fevers, of the ebb and flow of the sea, and of 
reminiscence.' " " The excitation of species is declared by Poncius ' to be one of the most 
difficult secrets of Nature ' (ex difficilioribus natures arcanis) ; and Oviedo, a Jesuit school- 
man, says, c Therein lies the very greatest mystery of all philosophy ' (maximum totius philo- 
sophice sacramentum)." Viewed in one aspect, this impression of mystery and the wonder 
fvbich it excites are not at all surprising. Thoughts and images come and go with the ap- 
parent caprice and lawlessness of wizards and fairies — now obtruding themselves where they 
are not wanted, and then hiding themselves most provokingly, notwithstanding the most ear- 
nest desires and the loudest calls for their return. 

On the other hand, when the movements of representation are explained, 
Association utsed , . , . . , . , . . , , . , , , , 

to explain all this explanation is taken to explain almost every thing beside ; so largely do 

law? faCtS and tlie conun S and g° in g °f represented objects enter into the other phenomena 
of the soul. A very considerable number of psychologists, as we have 
already remarked, have accordingly resolved all the psychical powers into the operation of the 
laws of association — viz., reasoning, induction, the belief in causality and adaptation, and even 
in time and space. Some have even resolved the conception of the soul itself, and of its sev- 
eral faculties, into the accumulation of associated and blended impressions of individual 
objects. The association of ideas has played a most conspicuous role in the modern theories 
of the soul and its operations, and its influence upon such theories was perhaps never so great 
as at present. Next to false or inadequate theories of sense-perception, have incorrect theo- 
ries of the association of ideas exercised the most mischievous influence upon the scientific 
views of the soul, and indirectly on philosophical, ethical, and theological truth (cf. § 43). It 
becomes, therefore, a matter of the most serious consequence to attain correct conceptions of 
the laws of the representative power. 

8 240. To do this with success, it is necessary, as in similar 

Method of dis- ° '- _ v ' 

cussion and in- cases, to state at some length the detective or erroneous 
theories which have been accepted to explain these opera- 
tions and laws. This will enable us to pronounce a critical judgment upon 
their error, as well as to recognize the truth which they include, and 
will prepare us to develop a true and satisfactory theory. 

It will be observed, that the laws of association pertain to what Hamil- 
ton calls the reproductive, as distinguished from the representative power ; 
in other words, to those operations of the soul which prepare objects for 
the soul's apprehension, as distinguished from the soul's act in cognizing 
them when prepared and presented (§ 47). In representation in all its 
forms, this function must necessarily be very prominent and important. 
In representation, the soul prepares and furnishes its own objects of cogni- 
tion. The capacity to do this, and the laws under which the operation is 
performed, are analogous to the psycho-physiological capacities and acts 
of the soul by which sense-objects are prepared for the soul's sense-per- 
ceptions. 

The laws of association have been divided into two leading classes, the primary and 
aecondary, which again may be distinguished as general and special. They are distinguished 
thus : the primary or general are those which act or tend to act at all times and in all persons, 
while the secondary and special are those which determine the associations of the same or 
different individuals at different times. 

The theories which we shall notice apply to both of these classes, though more eminently 
to the primary. We begin with 



272 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §241. 

I. The primary laws of association. 
Association not § 241# ^ e 00serve > i 1 ') that the theory is untenable which 
explained ^by asserts that the representative power has a special bodily 
tion. organ or instrument, and that its phenomena are explicable 

by the mechanical or physiological laws which are appropriate to such an 
organ. 

It has been held by not a few writers, among whom Bonnet was conspicuous, that the 
brain, or nervous system, is such an organ. As what we know in sense-perception was thought 
to be or to depend upon certain vibrations, undulations, or oscillations of the brain and' nerves, 
so it was held that the objects thus apprehended for the first time can be re-presented to the 
imagination or the memory, whenever these same oscillations or vibrations are resumed or 
repeated. A tendency to this recurrence or resumption is induced by their having been pre- 
viously presumed in perception. Others maintained that every act of perception effects a per- 
manent condition or disposition of certain of these fibres, which is resumed again in repre- 
sentation. Some held that, in addition to the oscillating fibres of the brain, there is also 
present a very delicate and sensitive fluid, which is another agency intermediate between the 
brain and the soul. Those who held that the soul is immaterial, insisted that the brain and 
nervous system are simply its organ in representation, on the action of which the mind is as 
completely dependent for its images and remembrances in representation, as for its objects in 
perception it depends on the organs of sense. Still greater plausibility was sought for this 
theory by the attempt made by some to show that the soul itself has a special seat or organ in 
the brain, by the sympathy of which with the vibrations of the remaining portions all the phe- 
nomena were resolved. 

We have already explained sufficiently how earnestly the cerebralists and associationalists 
of recent times reassert the same views, and seek to enforce them by the aid of the results of 
modern physiology. 

Lafacultepar laquelle les representations s'operent, est V imagination. Mais les idees sont attachees aux 
mouvements des fibres sensibles. Pour qu'une idee se presente de nouveau d Vdrne ilfaut done, que les fibres 
appropriees d cette idee soient mues de nouveau. La disposition du cerveau d repeter ces mouvements constitue 
done Vimagination. Bonnet, Essai de Psych., § 213. Cf. Essai Andlylique sur les Facultes de VAme. Cf 
D. Hartley, Observations on Man: his Frame, his Duty, and Ids Expectations. 3 vols. London, 1791; 
A. Tucker, The Light of Nature Pursued. 4 vols. Cambridge, U. S., 1831 ; J. Priestly, Disquisitions relating 
to Matter and Spirit. London, 1771 ; A. Bain, The Senses and the Intellect. London, 1855. 

The logical consequences of this theory would be, that the soul, for the presence of repre- 
sented objects, is entirely dependent on the service and agency rendered by this material 
organ, and that if it has any activity or freedom, this can be used only in detaining the objects 
that are presented, by retaining the organ or its parts in those positions of vibration which would 
be necessary to keep the objects before its view. Many of the adherents of these views do not 
assert for the soul any such activity, but resolve all its phenomena into the presence of those 
objects and states which the varying condition of this organ, in accordance with mechanical 
laws, might seem to require. 

In view of the theory that the senses and the imagination were thus dependent upon the sensorium, 
i. c, the brain and nervous system, these powers were formerly ascribed to the lower or inferior energy, 
which was called the animal soul, or the soul in contrast with the spirit or higher and rational soul, to 
which the higher and more spiritual functions were allotted. 

In modern times, since the various sensible qualities have been resolved into modes of motion, and 
many physiologists and some psychologists have resolved the capacities of the sensorium for different sen- 
sations into a simple susceptibility for slower or more rapid vibrations, there has been a renewed disposi- 
tion to make the representative power to depend on revived vibrations of the nervous energy. Such theories, 
have, however, been usually carried out to the bald materialism with which they have a strong affinity. 

Dr. J. P. Jessen (Versuck e. wissencha/tl. Bcgrundung d. Psychologic Berlin, 1855), accepting the 
physiological theory which finds in the cerebellum the organ of the phenomena of sense and motion, haa 



§242. THE CONDITIONS Ai<D LAWS OF REPRESENTATION. 273 

made an elaborate attempt to show that the cerebellum must be the organ of the imagination also, by 
means of the impressions made upon it through the sense-perceptions ; while the cerebrum, as the organ 
of the reason, uses tbe cerebellum, so to speak, as the sensory of the imagination. 

Defect of all § 2 ^2. -^ these theories fail to be supported, by reason of a 
physiological common defect. The structure of the brain and nervous 

and corporeal 

theories. system in no way indicates that they are capable of the 

vibrations or oscillations which are postulated of them. This structure is 
not entirely fibrous. What seem to be fibres, are not capable of the ten- 
sion and relaxation which more rapid and forcible vibrations, or those 
which are slower and feebler, would require. They are not sufficiently 
numerous to answer to the myriads of millions of states of thought and 
feeling which are represented in memory and the fancy. No particular 
change of the kind alleged has ever been known to occur in connection 
with a represented object. We call the eye and the ear organs of sight 
and heariDg, because, with the observed conditions and the varying states 
of these organs, sensations are present or absent, or vary both in quality 
and in force ; but never has an undulation of the animal spirits been 
observed, or even conjectured, to which might be referred the remem- 
bered face of an absent friend, or the vivid picture of a once-visited scene. 
No presumed vibration of any set of fibres or nerves has ever been ob- 
served to be connected with any picture or remembrance whatever. No 
nerve-cell has been known to be formed in connection with a picture fixed 
in the memory, or a purpose decisively taken. Again, the theory, if com- 
plete and adequate in every other particular, would fail entirely to account 
for the creative energy of the imagination. Representations of this sort 
are very abundant, and often very vivid and forcible ; but how some of 
these fantastic and gorgeous scenes could be provided for by any dispo- 
sition of fibres or vibrations of the nerves, it is impossible to see. The 
theory was evidently evoked as a necessary consequence and complement 
of a similar theory devised to account for the agency of the brain and 
nerves in the sense-perceptions. If that theory is untenable, this must, 
a fortiori, be rejected. It must be conceded however that 
Facts relating to Certain conditions of the body are connected with a far more 

the connection . . . _ , ,. 

of the body with mtense activity oi the representative power than accompa- 
and memory. lon nies others. In other bodily states this activity is excessive 4 , 
irregular, and even uncontrollable. Experience and observation both tes- 
tify that this power, in all its forms, whether of memory, phantasy, or 
imagination, both in sleep and wakefulness, is modified very greatly by 
the organization and temporary condition of the body. 

When tbe body is in health and in a normal condition, memory both acquires and gives up 
its treasures with the ease and exactness of instinct ; and imagination combines and creates, 
as if by the spell of an enchanter, so skilfully as to be herself surprised at her own work. 
Under the excitement of delirium, the elevation of enthusiasm, or the brief madness of pas- 
sion, the power to recall and create seems almost to be used by another self ; now mocking the 
18 



274 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 244. 

vain efforts of the man to control the rush of his too affluent fancy, and now suggesting for 
his service or his delight unexpected stores of facts and fancies. It is in vain, at times, that 
the soul essays to retard or to still the throng of unwelcome images that break in upon it like 
a succession of stormy waves. In sleeplessness induced by an elation of the nervous system, 
the rational soul seems to be separated from the imagination, and to become the passive specta- 
tor of the strangest caprices. We are wearied to exhaustion by the force and persistence 
with which these fancies at once bewilder and overmaster us. In delirium, the fancy seems to 
have completely overmastered the rational soul, paralyzed its functions, or frightened it from 
asserting its rightful supremacy. 

flow these facts § 243, These phenomena can be accounted for by two con- 
fo\ n a b nd aC cx U £in- situations : First, there is the general truth, that the soul is 
ed - dependent for the measure of force which it has at command, 

on the force and normal activity of the powers which maintain the cor- 
poreal life. When the bodily force is weakened, the force of the mind is 
often weakened in all its functions — of sense, representation, and thought. 
This general fact may itself be inexplicable, but, being assumed to be 
true, it may explain some ojf the cases in which the memory and imagina- 
tion are weakened by disease, or are nearly suspended in faintness and 
some of the forms of sleep. 
Any disturbance Second, a disturbance of the functions and activities of the 

of the bodily . . 

state introduces body is attended with an unequal action of the powers of 

disturbing sea- _ . _ _ _ _ 

sations. the soul, This can m part be accounted lor by the obtrusive 

influence of the sensations and other mental experiences which are the 
consequence of this unequal bodily action. The soul seems to have at its 
command, in any given condition, only a certain quantum of attention, or 
psychical energy, which may be evenly distributed among the various 
activities of which it is capable — as sense, consciousness, representation, 
and thought ; or, if concentrated into one, it is thereby withdrawn from 
and incapable of the rest. It has already been noticed, that we cannot 
exert the utmost energy in hearing and seeing at the same instant ; still 
less can we perceive and imagine or reason, at the same instant and with 
the highest energy and effect. At one time the body, in, health and in its 
normal state, is, as we say, the ready servant of the soul ; in other words, 
all the sensations are so agreeable or so gentle as to be unnoticed, and the 
Whole attention can be given to other than animal or sensuous experiences. 
In other conditions, as in extreme hunger or active pain, the sensations are 
so absorbing as to exclude all energetic spiritual activities, whether of 
thought or feeling. In still other conditions, the generally dormant vital 
and muscular sensations may be so positively obtrusive as to withdraw or 
depress the soul's capacity to fix the attention upon any other objects with 
steadiness and effect. 

The vital sen- § 244. And yet these muscular or vital sense-perceptions, 
vajrucf' may U be though obtrusive and unpleasant as sensations, may be so 

links in a chain ' . .. rt ,, ^. "U* xi at. 

of associations, vague and indefinite, as perceptions, as to serve chiefly as the 



§245. 



THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPKESENTATION. 



275 



suggestors — under the laws of mental association — of other images. We 
ought never to forget that, in all conditions of onr existence, so long as 
we exist as soul and body, these vague sensations of which the body in 
all its parts is the occasion, form the constant background on which are 
projected the more definite and distinctly remembered of our experiences. 
To parts of this background, or to the whole blended as a single percep- 
tion, the more positive experiences may be attached under the laws ol 
mental association. In every moment of psychical act or suffering, 
whether painful or pleasant, whether presentation, representation, or 
thought, this complex of undefined sensations must be present as a con- 
stant accompaniment, and of course as a more or less important element. 
When these sensations become more than usually active, through an ex- 
cited or a diseased condition of the body, they can suggest every image 
with which they have been connected in the past ; and by themselves and 
through the objects which they suggest, preoccupy the whole force of the 
soul's activity. The condition of the body may thus affect the whole 
activity of the soul, by simply introducing unusual psychical experiences, 
which operate according to purely psychical laws, both in absorbing the 
attention from the rational functions, and in obtruding a throng of asso- 
ciated images. 

These considerations will, it is thought, explain many cases of the sin 
gular and almost capricious dependence of the memory upon the varying 
conditions of the body. 

The laws of as- § 245. (2.) The laws according to which ideas are repre- 
be referred to sented to the mind cannot be resolved into any attractive 
power a in ^dels force — as is conceived by many — in the ideas themselves, by 
which they suggest or revive one another. This theory dif- 
fers from the one just discussed, in making the ideas, as psychical agents, 
to exert a force and attractive tendency similar to that which was ascribed 
to the brain or its physiological functions. 

Many of the explanations given of the phenomena of association, and 
much of the language in which they are expressed, are fitted to leave the 
impression that ideas attract one another somewhat as two drops of water 
tend to run together, or two globules of quicksilver rush into one ; or as 
if, when the larger drop or globule is divided in whole or in part, the 
second portion draws the other after itself. Whether or not the authors 
of these explanations and of this language would admit such a construc- 
tion of them, it is certain that the doctrine of association and its laws has 
been presented in such a form as to justify this construction, and to make 
it necessary to guard against it. 

Thus Hobbes -writes : "All fancies [phantasms] are notions within us, relics of those made in the 
sense ; and those notions that immediately succeeded one another in the sense continue also together after 
sense ; in so much as the former, coming again to take place, and be predominant, the latter followeth, by 
coherence of the matter moved, in such manner as water upon a plane table is drawn which way any ona 
part of it is guided by the finger." {Lev. p. i. ch. iii ; cf. Hum. Nat, ch. iii. § 2 ; and ELem. Phil., ch. xxv. 



21 6 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 246. 

% 8. Of the ancient philosophers, Carnead.es compared the suggestion of thoughts " to a chain, in which 
one link is dependent on another." Themistius, as translated hy Hamilton, says : " For as in a chain, if 
one link he moved, the link therewith connected will of necessity be moved, and through that the nex* 
again, and so forth, this likewise is the case in those impressions of which the soul is the subject." Johan 
nes Major, according to Hamilton, says : " Una notitia irahit alteram, ut seta sutoris filum." Locke says 

'* Some of our ideas have a natural correspondence and connection one with another : Ideas that in 

themselves are not at all of kin, come to be so united in some men's minds that 'tis very hard to separate 
them ; they always keep in company, and the one no sooner at any time comes into the understanding, 
but its associate appears with it, and. if they are more than two which are thus united, the whole gang 
always inseparable, show themselves together." (.Essay, B. ii. c. xxxiii. §5). Hume says: "These are, 
therefore, the principles of union or cohesion among our simple ideas, and in the imagination supply tho 
place of that inseparable connection by which they are united, in our memory. Here is a kind of attraction, 
which in the mental world will be found to have as extraordinary effects as in the natural, and. to show 
itself in as many and as various forms. Its effects are everywhere conspicuous ; but as to its causes, they 
are mostly unknown, and must be resolved into original qualities of human nature, which I pretend not to 
explain." Hum. Nat., B. i. p. i. Sec. iv.) James Mill (Analysis of the Human Mind, chap, iii.), says : 
"When two or more ideas have been often repeated together, and the association has become very strong, 
they sometimes spring up in such close combination as not to be distinguishable. Some cases of sensation 
are analogous. For example : when a wheel, on the seven parts of which the seven prismatic colors are 
respectively painted, is made to revolve rapidly, it appears not of seven colors, but of one uniform color- 
white. By the rapidity of the succession the several sensations cease to be distinguishable ; they run, as it 
were, together, and a new sensation, compounded, of all the seven, but apparently a single one, is the result. 
Ideas, also, which have been so often conjoined, that whenever one exists in the mind the others immedi- 
ately exist along with it, seem to run into one another— to coalesce, as it were, and out of many to form 
one idea ; which idea, however, in reality complex, appears to be no less simple than any of those of which 
it is compounded," etc., etc. The whole passage is accepted by J. Stuart Mill, in his Exam, of Sir William- 
Hamilton's Philosophy, ch. xiv., with marvellous naivete, as though it were an almost original exposition of 
the subject. The doctrine of " inseparable associations," thus enounced, is with him not only an axiom*, 
but the axiom, which is the c open sesame" 1 of all metaphysical and psychological problems. 

The most consistent and thorough-going advocate of this theory of the attractive forc<; 
Herbarfs Theo- of ideas, as ideas, either in ancient or modern times, is Herbart (cf. § 43). All the 
ry of the attrac- mental phenomena, and even the several powers of the mind, he accounts for by the 
tion ol Jaeas. actions and reactions of the mind's ideas. Ideas are strengthened when they recur 

often enough to gather the force which blends them into one or arranges them in a 
permanent series. After being experienced, they remain in a condition of constant tension, ready on the 
slightest occasion to rush back into the possession or rather the presence of the soul ; and again pressing 
hard to return as soon as a kindred object of perception or representation shall attract them back. The 
relations of the ideas to one another, both static and dynamic, are expressed by Herbart in mathematical 
formulae, for the purpose of bringing psychology into scientific relations with physics, which, in his view, 
tends to confirm the theory, that the attractive and repellent force exists between ideas as such, and not 
in the action of the soul of which they are simply states or energies. 

This theory is open to similar critical objections with the one which follows, with which it is intimately 
allied. "We observe next, that 

S 246. (3.) The conditions and laws of representation cannot 

Nor into the ° „ 1 , , . , „ 

force of relations be referred solely, or even primarily, to the force of certain 
classes of relations which exist between ideas. This theory 

is, in its principle, not superior to the literal or figurative ascription of 

attractive force to the ideas themselves. 

Aristotle enumerates three of these relations which consti- 

Thcse relations ..,•>... 

variously class- tute the laws oi representation, viz. : Contiguity in time and 
space, resemblance, and contrariety (De Mem. et Hem., c. ii. 
§ viii.). Hume asserts the three laws of association to be resemblance, 
contiguity in time and place, and cause and effect. Others increase this 
number to seven, viz. : Coexistence or consecution in time y contiguity in 
space ; dependence as cause and effect, means and end, ichole and part ; re- 
semblance or contrast ; produced by the same power or conversant about the 
same object ; signified and signifying ; designated by the same sound* 



§246. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPRESENTATION. 277 

Others contract them to two : Simultaneity and affinity. St. Augustine; 
and very many others, have reduced them to the single law of redintegra 
tion, or the formula that ' a part of a mental state tends to bring back and 
restore all the parts which originally composed it.' 

All these laws are founded in truth. All the formulas which enounce 
them describe facts of consciousness. Whether they fully exhaust the 
subject, and bring us to the ultimate principle or law of the mind's activ 
ity, must be reserved for further inquiry. 

Examples can easily be adduced of the representation ol 
*iace atioils ° f ^ eas un ^ er a ^ °f these relations. We begin with those of 
place. When I recall a single building upon a familiar 
street, I think at once of the building adjoining, and so on, of each that 
is next. When a portion or feature of a landscape is recalled, as a part 
of the falls of Niagara, or a single peak of the White Mountains, the 
entire scene comes back to the view of the mind, either as a a whole or in 
its several parts. 

Contiguity of time is illustrated by the following : When a 
Relations of single event is thought of, which occurred upon some day 
of my life made memorable by joy or sorrow, that event sug- 
gests the others which occurred in connection with itself — either before or 
after — till the whole history of the day has passed in review before the eye 
of the mind. Words call up the sentences in which they have been heard 
or read ; phrases bring back sentences ; sentences, a part or the whole of 
a discourse. A note of music suggests the snatch of melody in which it 
has been heard ; this suggests the air, till the whole tuae is repeated to 
the ear of the mind. 

Objects that were successive in time, may also have been 
Both in ccmjune- contiguous in place; as when the parts of an imposing pro- 
cession were seen in succession, passing beneath the same 
arch, or entering the same edifice. In such a case the relations of time 
and place connect these objects, and by means of them both these objects 
may be recalled in order. 

Inasmuch as all objects adjacent in space must, if perceived with atten- 
tion, be originally perceived by acts successive to one another in time, it 
may and generally will happen that when they are recalled as contiguous, 
they may also be recalled as successively perceived, and thus both the 
relations of time and place may act conjointly. Thus, if I examine the 
interior of a large public hall or church, I may walk around it on my feet, 
drawing near to every part which I inspect ; or, standing in one place, I 
may survey every object by successive applications of the eye. But these 
objects are also contiguous in place, and form together a whole of space. 
As such, they may be grasped by the eye at a single view — so much of 
the interior as the eye can survey — the whole and the parts together. 
When the whole " rises like an exhalation " before the recreating eye of 



278 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 246 

the fancy, it may be by the aid of one or both of these relations. Indeed, 
it might be urged that all objects adjacent in space, whether viewed by a 
single or by successive acts of attention, must be also connected under the 
relations of coexistence or of succession in time, and the relation of time 
must be always present and controlling. 

• The relations of similarity and of contrast serve to recall 

.Relations of f 

similarity and objects. If I see a house like the one in which I lived when 

contrast. _ . . 

a child — it is oi no consequence when or where — it causes 
me to think of my early home. If I see a face that resembles the face of 
a dear but absent friend, it brings that friend to mind. If a man sees a 
horse like one which he formerly owned, or a lady sees a dress which in 
material or color is like one which she has worn, the horse or dress are 
instantly recalled. The likeness may be of the whole to the whole, or of 
a part to a part ; as of a house to a house, a mountain to a mountain, a 
tree to a tree, a face to a face, in general outline or expression ; or again, 
as of a door or roof (the part of a house) to a door or roof; or of a sin- 
gle feature in the face to another feature. 

So, objects that are unlike, especially such as are strikingly contrasted, 
recall one another. Cold makes us think of heat, light reminds us of 
darkness, joy of sorrow and sorrow of joy, sweet of bitter and bitter of 
sweet. 

The relation of cause and effect is constantly recognized in 
"^ e - a and n ffect f our ex P er i ence « The cause may recall the effect, or the effect 
the cause. Fire makes me think of heat, and ice of cold. 
The wound under which I suffer, recalls the blow which caused it. The 
gift which I enjoy, brings to mind the kindness of the giver. The treach- 
ery of Arnold suggests the death of Major Andre. The heroic devotion 
of Florence Nightingale brings to view the relief and comfort of sick and 
wounded soldiers ; then is suggested their gratitude, and then the admira- 
tion which her example has commanded, and the imitation to which it has 
prompted. 

Under cause and effect, and dependent upon it, is the rela- 
end^etc 13 and ^ on °^ means an< ^ ends. Any instrument or contrivance sug- 
gests the use for which it was devised. Thus, a fire-engine 
makes us think of a conflagration ; a locomotive, of the drawing of a 
railway train ; a thumbscrew, or a case of surgical instruments, of torture 
or amputation. The thought of an end suggests the possible or necessary 
means. If a weight is to be raised, or a building is to be moved, we 
think of a lever, or a combination of screws and rollers. If we are in 
difficulty or danger, the mind is occupied exclusively with all the possible 
methods of extrication or deliverance. When our energies are quickened 
by fear, necessity, or hope, there rush to our thoughts every conceivable 
expedient of which we have ever heard or read. 

These three or four relations are the laws of associations which are 



§ 247. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPRESENTATION. 27U 

more commonly recognized. To these, three other laws have been added* 
which have been already named. Operations or objects of the same powe* 
or faculty, suggest one another, and the faculty concerned. The sign sug 
g*ests the thing signified, and the thing signified the sign. Objects acci 
dentally denoted by the same sound are associated. A little attention will 
convince any one that these may find their place either under the law of 
cause and effect, or under the very comprehensive relation of contiguity 
of space and time. 

The attempt to increase the number of the relations that are conceived to 
Are m not other operate as laws of association and conditions of representation, most natu- 
posable ! SUP " ra ^y su ggests the inquiry, whether there is any special charm in the three or 

four relations of resemblance, contrast, contiguity of space and time, and 
causation, which invests these alone with efficacy in the recovery of ideas. We ask at once, 
Why may not any other relations serve as well as these ? Why, of the two objects that are 
connected by any relations whatever, may not each suggest its correlate ? We find, in point 
of fact, that this is so — that objects connected by many special relations, as of premise and 
conclusion, evidence and inference, do recall each other. We discover, moreover, that the 
objects related as mutually causes and effects must be contemplated as such, in order that they 
may suggest one another. In other words, they must have been connected in the mind as 
causes and effects, that it may be possible for one to recall the other. If they have not been thus 
known, or cannot readily be thus known, the one is impotent to recall the other. For exam- 
ple, oxygen suggests the rusting of iron, or the increase of combustion, or the purification of 
the blood, to the mind that has known that the one is a cause and the other is an effect ; but 
to one ignorant of these relations of oxygen, it would have no such suggesting power. 

This fact leads us at once to the inquiry whether the power of one related 
Cannot these re- r 

lations be re- object to recall another object is not derived entirely from the circumstance 

lawl ° a Smg 6 tna ^ tne ^ w0 flave been connected by the mind's previous activity ? In other 

words, it suggests the theory that the conditions and laws of representation do 

not depend upon the attractive force of the objects or ideas themselves, nor upon the power 

of relations as relations in a smaller or greater number, but upon the subjective energy of the 

mind in uniting them, or upon the single circumstance that the mind has bound them together 

by some previous activity of its own. 

§ 247. (4). Philosophers have united all these relations under 
StgratLm. red " wnat tne y nave ca H e( l the law of redintegration, which is 

thus announced : Objects that have been previously united 
as parts of a single mental state, tend to recall or suggest one another. 
Redintegration, as here used, is equivalent to the complete restoration of 
the whole, on condition of the presence of one or more of its parts. This 
law was announced by St. Augustine, by Wolf, by Malebranche, by J. G. 
E. Maas, and is accepted with some qualification by Sir William Hamilton. 

It is an interesting and much-vexed question, whether this law will meet and 
Will this explain explain all the special cases of representation. If we concede that the threo 
far^se^^ 011 " or *° ur laws or relations enumerated by Hume and others cover and compre- 
hend every supposable instance of recall, and attempt to resolve them all into 
the law of redintegration, we shall find the following results : 



280 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §247. 

s a.) Objects contiguous in time present no difficulty. Indeed, the law of 
The relations of redintegration might be viewed as only another expression for the law that 
caus a/tio n^^ objects conjoined in time tend to restore or suggest one another, inasmuch as 

the parts and the whole respectively must have been united as contiguous in 
time. 

(6.) Objects adjacent in space, as has already been observed, usually come under the rela- 
tion and law of contiguity in time, and are therefore easily accommodated to the law of redin- 
tegration. 

It is to be observed, that a whole and parts in time directly, and in time indirectly 
through space, are given in the same instantaneous act, or by a succession immediately conse- 
quent. That successive objects in time are capable of being bound up as wholes, is obvious 
from experience. When we so learn as to recall the successive words which make a sentence, 
we either maintain an apprehension of the constitutive relation which they all have to the 
whole, while we are hearing or reading each part, or we bind them into a whole by a single 
act of review or repetition. In the same way, when, by successive acts in time, we master all 
the parts of some whole in space, as of a building, a landscape, or a complex mathematical 
figure, we give unity to the whole. 

(c.) The most of the cases in which objects are recalled under the relation of cause and 
effect, will readily be solved by the law of redintegration. As has already been intimated, 
objects must previously have been connected as cause and effect, in order to be recalled by the 
force of this relation. Indeed, objects are known as causes by the effects which they produce. 
Effects are known as such by being referred to other objects or agents as their causes. In 
many instances, even, it is only through this relation that they are connected at all. Bat in 
order to be connected as cause and effect, so as to be recalled the one by the other, they must 
first have been united under this relation in a previous mental act ; and if so, they come at 
once under the law of redintegration. 

What is true of causes and effects, is still more obvious of means and ends. A means 
can only be known as such by its relation to the end which it is adapted to promote or bring 
to pass. That is, it must be thought of in connection with the end, as the camels which buoy 
up a ship, or the diving-bell which enables a diver to breathe and labor under water. The 
same is true of premises and conclusions, data and inferences, or the so-called logical relations, 
all of which are referable to the general relation of cause and effect. 

(d.) The relations of similarity and contrast present some difficulty. When 
The relation of I see a face never seen before, at once the thought flashes upon me, ' That 
sio^Sfficnltyf " ^ ace * s ^ e the face of a friend long absent or dead ; ' or when I see a horse 

which strikingly resembles in color, form, or action, another horse which I 
formerly owned, and the image of that horse is called to mind, the objects that recall, and 
those which are recalled, were never conjoined in fact. In many cases of similarity, the pre- 
vious conjunction of the resembling objects is possible, and the law of redintegration may be 
readily applied, but in instances such as have been adduced, we seem foiled in the effort to 
apply it. In view of these facts, the law of similarity seems at first to be an original and 
independent law, and to take its place as such by the side of the law of redintegration. 

Others, as Maas ( Versuch uber die Einbildungslcraft), have sought to bring it 
How the diffl- un( ^ er tne same by the following solution : What we see in the resembling 
culty is resolved, face, or the resembling horse, is some special and separable feature or 

peculiarity, one or more. Let this be called a, and let the remaining features 
or peculiarities be called b. Let all the observed features or characteristics of the same, both the 
resembling and the non-resembling, be called A. Let the face or the horse never seen beforo 
be designated by B. When B is seen, the part a is seen as a separable constituent, for by the 
supposition it attracts special attention. The first act is to perceive B ; the next act, to notice 
a, the resembling feature ; but a has before been conjoined with 6, giving the total A. Aa 
soon as the past a is apprehended, it brings back its associate b, and A is therefore recalled. 



§249. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF EEPEESENTATION. 281 

When, for example, I look at a portrait of Sir Philip Sidney, I am reminded of its likeness tc 
the portrait of Queen Elizabeth, because of the ruff which is about the neck of each, which it 
this case is the only common feature, and attracts at once the attention. The ruff brings back 
every thing besides in her Majesty's portrait — 'the head-dress, the features, the sceptre, the 
robes, etc., etc., till the whole is restored. So far as the process of association is concerned, 
it is urged, it makes no difference whether the separable features are or are not actually divisible 
in space ; they must be separated and conjoined in thought, in order to be the medium by 
which the attendant parts are brought to the mind. If this solution is accepted, the law of 
redintegration is established as the one comprehensive and sufficient law of representation. 
In other words, the law of representation would be, ' objects which have been previously 
united as a part of a single mental state, tend to recall or suggest one another.' 

The arts and § ^^' Shall this be accepted as the law ? Before this ques- 
tSe° le same e but ^ on * s answere ^ one point needs to be noticed : The part 
similar. f a mental state which is said to recall or tend to recall the 

whole, is not literally the same which has previously beeu an object to the 
mind. Every time the mind apprehends either a part or the whole, it has 
a new percept or image, whether partial or total. If, having seen two 
resembling horses together, I afterward see one, I am impelled at once to 
think of the other ; or if the sight of a third resembling horse makes me 
think of one or both, there is to the mind in every instance a new object 
presented and pictured. The percept of the same horse taken in succes- 
sive moments, or at long intervals, is mentally conceived not as the same, 
but as a similar mental entity or object. All its force to attract, or suggest, 
or recall another object, comes not from the sameness of the part or the 
whole objectively viewed, but from the similarity of the two or more 
mental percepts or mental images regarded subjectively, or as the products 
of the mind's similar activities. Whatever this tendency, or readiness, or 
force may be, it is derived entirely from the mind's own activity, and not 
at all from the sameness of the objects as parts or wholes. The mind 
thinks, or tends to think, of a, when it perceives or thinks of b, because it 
has previously acted in a similar activity, in whole or in part. When a 
occurs to it, whether in perception or thought, a certain form of partial 
subjective activity begins, which involves, by reason of the fact that the 
like activity has been previously experienced, a greater facility of repetition. 
One act of knowledge, as has been previously explained, differs from 
another act or state of knowledge by the mental object which it produces. 
One act of knowledge is similar to another, in whole or in part, as it forms 
in apprehension a similar mental object by the application of attentive 
effort. One act of knowledge is similar to another, according as the 
objects thus produced are similar in whole or in part. Even when the 
object, as in two acts of perception, is one and the same, the mental acts 
and products are only similar, and therefore are two. 

The explanation § 249. The law of redintegration, as ordinarily phrased or 
jecte^S^in 3 the enounced, is liable to the qualification which was noticed in 

mind's activity. g u ^ yiz . % ^ t nQ attractiye f orce can be a ffi rme d r COn 



282 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §249. 

ceived to pertain to ideas as such. Objects or ideas have of themselves no 
greater force or tendency to restore those which with themselves made up 
a mental state, than they have to attract one another. The force in the 
iinal analysis must come from and reside in the mind whose products they 
are. 

It will be observed, on reflection, that the law of similarity, so far from 
being brought under the law of redintegration by this analysis, brings this; 
very law in subjection to itself, because, when we correct the reading of 
this law, we find that the same is only another phrase for the similar. 

While, then, no objection can be made to the law of redinte- 

The real expla- . •: . ' 

nation. How oration as a popular expression of the comprehensive con- 
enounced. ^. . . . , . x . 

dition or principle ot representation, it must be rejected as 

defective, because it overlooks the real principle. This is to be found in 
the comprehensive general fact or law, that the mind tends to act again 
more readily i?i a manner or form which is similar to any in which it has 
acted before, in any defined exertion of its energy. 

As the result of our analysis, we accept this as the principle which 
comprehends the so-called laws of association. We have seen that these 
laws are not physiological, but psychical; that the attractive force by 
which one idea is said to be able to recall another, does not lie in the ideas 
as such, viewed as separate from the mind's energy in producing or be- 
holding them : nor does it lie in the relations as such under which the 
objects were connected in the mind's previous act of uniting them, but in 
the ultimate truth that, in whatever way the mind may act, it thereby is 
enabled to act in a similar manner a second time. Its original act is 
always complex, including objects separated and united, as parts and as a 
whole, by definable relations. If the mind cognizes a part of any of these 
wholes, it begins to act in a way similar to that in which it has acted 
before. The tendency to finish the whole of the act thus begun explains 
the principle that underlies the laws of association. 

This comprehensive law enables us to explain not only the recurrence of two 
ex^fains^^the 0D J ects tnat have previously been connected in the same instant of time, but 
force of succes- the return of those also which have followed one another in a consecutive 

order ; as the words that form a sentence suggest each other, or the names 
that have been learned in a series, or the letters of the alphabet, etc., etc. In these cases each 
object that precedes and follows must have been united by the energy of a single act, else they 
could not have been observed in relation. It is also true, in many such cases, that the con- 
spiring relation of each part toward the whole of which it is a member, has been often con- 
sidered by a single activity of the mind, after the parts have been followed in their order by 
successive pairs in the way just explained. 

The reference of the laws of the representative power to the subjective force 
power^of feeling or energy of the mind, explains the influence of states of feeling, as well as 
over the associa- actg of tQe intellect, upon the representative activities. The state of feeling 

in which I perceive or cognize an object — e. ff., a glorious sunset or an inter- 
esting story — is often as distinct to my apprehension as the object itself. It should follow that 
a similar feeling excited a second time ought as truly to tend to recall a similar object, as a 



§251. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPRESENTATION. 28? 

similar object the feeling. That the feelings are potent instruments of memory, is confirmed 
by the experience of every one. It often happens that a feeling of disgust once occasioned by 
some object, can never be experienced, again without recalling the object itself. This is often 
observed in the bodily sensations as those of sea-sickness or headache. It is scarcely lesa 
conspicuous in the experience of purely psychical emotions when these are perfectly defined 
or are traceable to some determinate cause like homesickness or sudden fright. In such cases 
the experience of a feeling which is at all similar to the feeling in question, however dissimilai 
may be the occasion or exciting cause, will bring back the intellectual cognition with which it 
was originally connected. We have already explained (§ 229) that in such cases the feeling 
operates through the agency of the intellect. 

§ 250. This principle also serves to explain the predominance of certain 
predonSnance^f associations over the intellect and character of different persons. If the ten- 
special associa- dency to reproduction and recall is an original force, or law, then it is natural 

that the energy with which any individual act or state of the soul tends to be 
revived, should be proportioned to the relative force of the original act ; in other words, to 
the attention which is bestowed upon its objects or parts, whether these are objective or sub- 
jective. An excited interest is the condition of concentrated attention ; for, as has already 
been observed, aroused feeling awakens the intellect, detains its gaze, and excludes distracting 
objects. Hence, the intimate dependence of the memory and imagination of different persons 
upon the character and strength of the emotions, the buoyancy and depression of the spirits, 
etc. Hence, preeminently, the influence of those commanding purposes and prevailing habit? 
which make and mark the individual man, upon the objects which he most frequently recall? 
and recombines, under his prevailing and dominant associations. That every man has his 
dominant associations is universally observed and confessed. The associations of one aro 
those of wit, while those of another are of broader humor. One person abounds in sensuous 
illustrations and analogies, another in " wise saws " and grave generalizations. One person 
overflows with associations of vice, another with those of virtue and goodness. The reason is, 
that the favorite objects of the soul's activity with the one person, are certain classes of 
objects with their relations ; and with the other, objects that are very unlike them. But in 
every case, the associations by which each recalls objects, follow the energy with which he 
cognizes them. One man recalls objects and relations which never occur to another, chiefly 
because the one contemplates these objects and relations, and with intense energy, while they 
scarcely catch the notice or attention of the other. Open before two men the same landscape, 
the same picture, the same architectural design ; tell them the same narrative, introduce them 
to the same companion, let them listen to the same poem, lecture, or sermon, and the active 
intellect of each will be busy in selecting objects from each, discerning, them in special rela« 
tions and fixing them for future recall. 

Ex lams the ia- § 25 1. ^ ur g enera ^ ^ aw explains also why our associations 
bie e oVecfs Sensi " w ^ °fy' ecis perceived are far more energetic and permanent 
than those which are connected with objects remembered or 
imagined. That which is seen with the eye or heard with the ear, other 
things being equal, holds the attention more closely and longer than that 
which is merely remembered, or painted to the fancy. It is constantly 
present, firmly fixed, and held closely before the mind for it to return to 
as often as it will. It is because of the strength, and the continuance or 
reiteration of the impressions which sensible objects occasion, that they 
are fitted to fix in the mind bonds of association with far greater intense- 
ness and tenacity than objects that are only remembered or fancied. Even 
if the object which has been previously perceived is itself remembered, it 



284 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 253, 

brings back its companion or related thought, with far greater readiness 
and force than if it had been originally a thought-object only. But let the 
object be perceived a second time, and not merely remembered, and it 
acts as an associating force with redoubled energy. First, it presents a 
greater variety and number of parts or points of association than it could 
possibly do when it was only thought of. Each part or point is also longer 
before the mind as an object to which it can return again and again. 
Then the mind, by the very act of bodily perception, is often stimulated 
to greater activity, and prepared to recall associate objects with propor- 
tionate energy. 

The associations with home are a fine illustration of this principle. When we 
Associations merely think of the home of our childhood, it brings back a throng of recol- 
v nome. lections associated with its places and persons ; but when we visit our home, 

we cannot repress them. They are connected with every apartment ; they 
start up from every corner ; they attend upon all our walks ; there is not a tree, or rock, or 
stream, but thrusts into our very faces, and forces upon our society, its throng of associate 
memories. 

Objects of imagination have this advantage over objects of sense, that they are more free 
from unwelcome and unpleasant elements, and are subject more entirely to the creative power. 
But objects of sense stimulate the associative tendency to greater energy, and furnish it with 
the greatest variety of material. 

§ 252. Our principle also explains why certain conditions of 
power of bodily the body affect the power to recall, both favorably and un- 
favorably. Objects apprehended in conditions of bodily 
weakness and pain are often with difficulty recalled. Those which pre 
isent themselves in the happier moments of vigor, activity, and moder- 
ate excitement, are never forgotten. Disease may both hinder and quick- 
en the energies of the soul to acquire, and, of course, to reproduce its 
acquisitions ; for, in all these cases, the tendency to reproduce is measured 
by the energy of the original activity ; and this varies, as the body helps 
or hinders the mind to detain and concentrate its attention (cf. § 244). 
„ , . , 8 253. The principle which refers the tendency to be repro- 

Explams why a « r r j ^ jt 

part and not the duced to the original energy of apprehension and experience 
represented. — i n other words, of cognition and feeling — enables us to 
understand why the mind represents only a portion, and often but a single 
element or feature, of an object presented. We perceive a complex mate- 
rial object ; we read a written page ; we examine a fine drawing", engrav- 
ing, or painting; we hear and understand an elaborate and convincing 
argument ; we enjoy a succession of pleasurable sensations or emotions. 
But we bring away or possess the power to recall, only a few parts or ele- 
ments of each. The explanation has already been anticipated, by the 
obvious fact that our apprehension of comparatively simple objects con- 
sists of many separate acts of analytic and energetic attention upon the sep- 
arate parts. When all these parts are spread before us, in the relations of 



§255. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF KEPKESE1STATION. 285 

space, we select at our leisure those which solicit our notice. When thej 
are no sooner given than they are gone, as in hearing a discourse, etc., wf 
seize upon selected portions, and make them our own by an energetic 
response which accompanies the hearing, or by an earnest review which 
immediately follows. In both cases we often gather, by a unifying act, 
all that we have thus noticed. What is material to our principle, is that 
we can represent no more parts or features than we energetically present 
to our cognition. In both cases, what is called an element, part, or fea- 
ture, may be as truly the single vague impression which strikes the senses 
or the mind from the combined action of the whole, as the combination 
of parts in an orchestra, the mingled sounds that come up to the ear in 
the din from a great city, or the general impression to the eye of an object 
seen or a few points vaguely noticed by a careless reader or hearer. 
Whatever the parts may be, or however they may be conceived, the prin- 
ciple remains true that that, and only that, which is appropriated by the 
inind by its energetic activity, tends to be revived by a similar act of 
representation. 

§ 254. Again, it is essential to an act of knowledge that ita 
relations are so objects be discerned in some relation. Even states of feeling 

are moved and excited by the discerned relations of objects, 
as truly as by the apprehension of their unrelated existence. When 
the mind is at all developed, that which arrests the attention and excites 
the interest is not the sole and single part or element, whether of a sense 
or spiritual entity, but the part or element as related to some other part or 
whole, present or absent, perceived or thought of. The relation is often 
quite as much an occasion of intellectual or emotional activity as the parts 
related. Sometimes it attracts the exclusive attention, and the entities 
concerned are set aside and overlooked. I may listen to several similar 
sounds from different musical instruments, or human voices ; the sounds 
compared may scarcely be noticed, only the circumstance that they are 
similar. Twenty effects may be produced by a common agent or cause. 
That they are is scarcely observed, for the attention is occupied by the 
common relation by which they are connected. In hearing a person read, 
or in reading ourselves, we often do not notice the words ; the mind takes 
up only the relations which constitute their meaning. 
Finally, why g 255. These facts explain why it is that the relations of 

certain classes w . _ A _ • * . 

of relations give obiects, and especially why three or four more prominent rela- 

the laws of asso- . i r . , , „ ... 

ciation. tions, ngure so conspicuously as laws 01 association m most 

of the modern treatises on psychology, and how this circumstance is to be 
reconciled with the principle and method of explaining these laws which 
we adopt. The mind can rarely be moved to energetic activity except 
some important relation, binding two or more objects together, holds the 
attention and excites the feelings. The relations named are none other, as 
we shall see, than the comprehensive or general categories which connect 



286 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §257. 

and conditionate all our knowledge (§515). These relations are the laws 
of association, inasmuch as they are conditions of original cognition. 
Whatever we know energetically under these relations, we know a second 
time under and by means of one or more of these categories. 
II. The secondary laws of association. 

§ 256. The theories which we have considered thus far 
SS defined 4 " 7 cn i e % relate to what are called the primary laws of associa- 
tion. Other laws have also "been proposed which are called 
secondary. The primary laws are conceived as those which account 
for the tendency of any objects to recur or be represented to the mind, by 
means of the several classes of objects or relations which have been 
considered. The secondary laws are conceived to regulate the recurrence 
of one object in any class rather than another. They might with propri- 
ety be called laws of the preference or precedence of particular objects. 
They are designed to explain more particularly the operation of the repre- 
sentative power. Whether these secondary laws may not also be explained 
by the principles already reached, remains to be seen, after subjecting 
them to a critical examination. 

The secondary laws have been enumerated and propounded 
merateT 6 enu ~ as ^°^ ows : (*•) Those objects are more likely to be recalled, 
other things being equal, which occupy the mind for the long- 
est period of time ; (2.) those also which are apprehended most vividly ; 
(3.) those which are brought most frequently before the mind ; (4.) those 
which were most recently present ; (5.) those which are the most free 
from entangling relations ; (6.) those which are contemplated with the 
greatest strength of emotion ; (7.) those which are viewed with favoring 
circumstances of bodily health; (8.) those which are coincident with 
prevalent habits ; (9.) those to which the original constitution of body or 
mind predisposes us with the greatest interest or aptness (cf. Dr. Thomas 
Brown, Lecture 37). 

§ 257. A critical examination of these laws will enable us to reduce them to 
ble to the same some general expression. Perhaps it will show that both the secondary and 
theprmary]"* 11 P rimai 7 rest u P on tne same general principle. The first, concerning length 

of time, has already been shown to be a necessary incident to the operation 
of the general law for which we have contended, that an attentive or energetic apprehension 
of objects in their relations is a ground of their tendency to be recalled. The so-called objects 
with which we have to do, are ordinarily complex, each part holding many relations to one 
another and to other objects. Some length of time may be necessary, it is alwaysjavorable, 
to the varied and repeated applications of the intellect to those objects and relations, which 
will awaken the mind to its highest energy. The second is nearly coincident with our funda. 
mental principle. 

The third presents ground for inquiry. Why does simple repetition give any 
The force of rep- advantage? We answer: A second look, especially if it follows that which 
etition. wenfc b e f ore a f ter a considerable interval of time, presents the object as 

divested of the distracting influences which novelty imparts. It is taken 



g 257. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF EEPKESENTATTON. 267 

when the mind is critical and cool — when it inquires whether its former judgment was correct. 
Each new or repeated view, whether near or remote, reveals some fresh relation to some 
familiar or novel object, and thus increases the chance of its being suggested to the mind a 
second time. For example, by one act the diamond is apprehended as the brightest, or the 
hardest, or the most costly of the gems ; and so, when the gems are thought of, the diamond 
is suggested. By another view, its relation to carbon is discerned, and then the diamond will 
be l'ecalled when charcoal, or marble, or carbonic acid are present to the thoughts. 

The fourth law is, that an object contemplated recently, is, if other things are 
The recentness equal, more likely to be recalled than the same object if viewed longer ago. 
thought of ot) ^ ect A countenance casually and hastily seen an hour since, may be recollected or 

recalled by another similar face within this short interval of time, but be lost 
forever if the occasion which suggests it does not soon present itself. The fact is unques- 
tioned, and it may perhaps be an ultimate fact. It rather concerns the loss or waste of power, 
than any positive force or tendency. If expressed in the language or terms taken from the 
general principle which we have laid down as fundamental, it would be thus phrased : "the 
tendency of any act of the mind to be recalled or repeated is weakened by disuse, till, finally, 
it wholly ceases." "Whether it is properly said to be weakened, or superseded, is an open ques- 
tion. This is true of the kindred question, whether any acquisition of the mind can be irrecov- 
erably lost (cf. § 290). 

One palpable and prominent exception to this general tendency to weakness 
The memory of or loss may be urged, in the frequent cases of persons who in old age remem- 
old age. ^ er jibing so vividly as the scenes and events which occurred longest ago. 

Often the whole of the intervening life is entirely erased from the soul, while 
the memories of youth and childhood are still vivid and distinct. Several reasons may be 
given for this plain exception to the operation of the laws already considered. Many of the 
remembrances of childhood have been recalled again and again through a long life. These 
objects have been suggested by a great number of occasions, have been viewed and reviewed 
under the greatest variety of relations, and been attended by the strongest and the tenderest 
emotions. Though the events of childhood, as realities, were present to the mind longest ago, 
yet, as thought-objects, they may be the most fresh and recent. Nor should it be forgotten 
that the objects and events of childhood were contemplated by the mind at first with an almost 
exclusive and absorbing attention. The few persons that stand out in so bold relief from the 
background of life when life is reviewed, filled its entire foreground when life was all in the 
future, for they were the only persons with whom the child was brought in contact. The 
memorable occurrences of childhood were the absorbing subjects of thought for days before 
they occurred. They were often reviewed with fond reflection after they were past. The 
learning to count ten or one hundred, the wearing a certain dress ; the beginning of school- 
life ; the long-anticipated, the often-reviewed and recited visit to some relative, the first con- 
siderable journey, the first party, the first composition — were most important occurrences in 
their time, and spread themselves over a large portion of the horizon of the infant life. 

The fifth law (which relates to entangling relations) has already been provided 

The force of en- f or> jf ^ e p i n ts or features to which these relations, and the thereby related 

tangling rela- r ' J 

tions. objects, are attached, are very numerous, the greater is the probability that 

the object will be recalled, provided the relations, and the related objects, be 
discerned with equal energy of attention and ardor of interest. But if the multiplicity of 
relations divides and thus weakens the interest, the influence of their number is distracting 
and entangling. In illustration of the operation of this law, Dr. Brown observes : " The song 
which we have never heard but from one person, can scarcely be heard again by us without 
recalling that person to our memory ; but there is obviously much less chance of this particu- 
lar suggestion, if we have heard the same air and words frequently sung by others " {Lec- 
ture 31). 

Upon this we remark : If the frequent repetition of the song has the effect to withdraw 



288 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §258. 

the attention from the first impression, and to exclude its being often repeated and revived, 
then it becomes less likely that the person who sung it for the first time will be suggested by 
the air ; but if, every time it is sung by any one, that person is recalled, then the song will be 
more ineffaceably associated with him the more frequently it is sung. 

The sixth and seventh have already been noticed and explained (§§ 251.2). The eighth 
needs but a word. So far as facility of association depends on repetition, and so far as par- 
ticular habits facilitate repetition, so far is this general fact resolved by the law concerning 
repetition. So far as habit, or easy repetition by habit, enables us to concentrate the attention 
with greater energy and interest, so far is its power explained by the strength of the single or 
repeated apprehensions for which habit provides. 

The ninth law supposes that there are original differences and aptitudes in 
Natural apti- different individuals for certain classes of associations. This is doubtless 
true. But it should never be forgotten that these original aptitudes do not 
pertain to the faculty of representation or the so-called faculty of association 
as such, but that it extends equally to the power of presentation and intuition. Whatever we 
energetically observe or connect by relations, in original intuition, we revive by association. 
The range of the objects which we can recall depends on the range of objects and relations 
which we can apprehend. The special aptness which we have for representing objects, de- 
pends on the aptness with which we present or acquire them. There is no special aptness for 
special associations, or for various and ready suggestion, separate from a readiness to discern 
special classes of objects and relations, and to discern them with interest and energy. 



§ 258. There are what seem, on the first aspect, exceptions 

Apparent excep- \ . , , . """ . ■ _ ' * - ; ' _ .. 

tions to the law to the universal application of the laws of association. 

of association. .^ * x 

While no one can doubt that many thoughts are suggested 
from the past through a manifest and discernible connection with objects 
or thoughts that are present, there are many cases of apparent deviation 
from this rule. It would seem that, if the rule were worth any thing, it 
ought to be universal. And yet there are many cases when a thought 
seems all at once to dart into the mind, which has no apparent connection 
with any thought that is present. In many such cases, the connections can 
be traced through all their concealed and circuitous ways, and the several 
objects that served as media can all be uncovered one by one. We cite 
the familiar story recorded by Hobbes : " In a company in which the con- 
versation turned upon the late civil war, what could be conceived more 
impertinent than for a person to ask abruptly, What was the value of a 
Roman denarius ? On a little reflection, however, I was able to trace the 
train of thought which suggested the question ; for the original subject of 
discourse introduced the history of the king, and of the treachery of those 
who surrendered his person to his enemies ; this again introduced the 
treachery of Judas Iscariot, and the sum of money which he received for 
his reward" (Zeviathan, p. i. c. 3). 

This story is better worth repeating for its antiquity, than because of 
the singularity of its matter. It has served as an illustration of the opera- 
tion of association in all the books since Hobbes' time. But the case is 
no more singular nor striking than the experience of any lively mind could 
furnish in every half-hour. If any person not absorbed with the objects 



§259. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPRESENTATION. 289 

of sense, or bent upon some present achievement, will break in upon his 
movements of reverie with the question, How did this or that thought 
occur to my mind ? he will be surprised, and perhaps amused, at the series 
of strangely connected thoughts which introduced it to his notice. In 
many cases, the thought, though abrupt and strange, will be found to have 
a real connection with the thought which it seemed to jostle and displace. 
There are thoughts, however, the connections of which we cannot trace 
out. What ought we to believe in respect to them ? Should we still hold 
that the law of association governs their movement, though we cannot 
trace its presence or furnish the proof of its working ? 

§ 259. In answer to this question, two opposite views have been maintained. 
Two theories The first i3 held by Dugald Stewart and others — that the mind is momen- 
nation. tarily conscious of the presence of these intervening objects, though it cannot 

recall them in memory ; that the media of association are present long 
enough to act as links of connection, but not long enough to leave any trace upon the mem- 
ory. Thus, when the object a was known to be present, and all at once E darts into the mind 
— though we did not know how or why — it was nevertheless true that b, c, d, and e did 
occur to the mind each long enough to suggest the other, and so the mind was carried on to f, 
on which it rests with distinct and conscious apprehension, though it cannot recall one of these 
intervening objects. 

The second theory is urged by Hamilton, following a suggestion of Leibnitz, and agreeing 
with the school of Herbart. These all contend that, 'though b, c, d, and e were present long 
enough to influence the train of consciously associated thoughts, yet the mind was in no sense 
aware of their presence ; for it is unphilosophical to suppose an object present to conscious- 
ness without leaving some impression upon the memory. No analogous cases can be adduced,, 
and the hypothesis must be rejected as groundless.' Besides, it is urged, ' another principle can 
be adduced to explain the phenomena — that of latent or unconscious modifications of the 
mind. In this we have a recognized and actually existing law, which is sufficient to account 
for all the facts, and which ought therefore to be accepted as their valid explanation.' 

Upon this argument we observe, that it is not true, as is represented, that there are no 
grounds on which to rest the first hypothesis. In the very case supposed, when r suddenly 
and strangely follows upon a, if we bethink ourselves at once, we can recall some intervening 
links of b, c, d, and e. We say, if we bethink ourselves at once ; for if the effort is made a 
few instants later, the clue will fall from our hands. At other times, when it seems to have 
totally escaped and eluded us, it can be recovered by persistent effort and determination. 
Now, the fact that in some apparently desperate cases we can succeed, demonstrates that the 
objects might have been — nay, that they actually were, present to the consciousness, though 
they seemed not to have been. We have a right to infer, then, on grounds of analogy, that 
they are so in all cases. The analogy of acknowledged and similar phenomena is wholly with 
the first theory. Moreover, analogy would seem to suggest and confirm the principle, that 
where there is a feeble activity of consciousness, there is a feeble hold upon the memory ; and 
we conclude conversely, that where there is the slenderest hold upon the memory, there must 
have been the feeblest possible energy of consciousness. The advocate of the second theory 
would argue, that where there is no memory, there can have been no consciousness. We have 
ehown that in instances in which there seems to be no memory, memory is present, but with 
feeble energy ; and we have reason to conclude that it may always be so, when the effect 
argues the presence of conscious activity. What is intended by the phrase, the latent modifica- 
tion of consciousness is not alogether clear. If it be explained as only a very low degree of 
conscious activity, the two theories are in principle the same. 
19 



290 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 261. 

8 260. The representative power tends to unceasing activity. 

Repr esenta- " .',*«. , *. „ , - , ' „ 

Hon unceasingly JLne mind, it given up to the operation oi the laws of asso- 

Tictivo 

ciation, would never cease to furnish itself with new objects. 
Each object last discerned would suggest another. This would call up its 
fellow, and the series of successive objects would suffer no interruption 
and would come to no end. It has been said with great effect — and the 
thought is a pregnant one — that, were the senses excited to action only 
long enough to furnish the soul with requisite material and fully to de- 
velop all its powers, and then to be sealed up forever, the spirit would 
have acquired material enough for its endless activity, and its activity 
in simple representation would go on forever. (Bishop Butler, Analogy, 
p. i. c. i.) We know from observation, that when the other activities are 
as nearly suspended as is possible, as in dreaming and reverie, the 
train of associated objects still rushes past the eye of fancy with a rapidity 
that cannot be measured. In cases of an abnormal excitement of the 
brain, it seems beyond our control, and we suffer intensely from the energy 
and swiftness with which thoughts of every variety force themselves upon 
our notice, while we can neither retard nor regulate their course. But 
strong as this activity is, and difficult of control as it at times may be, it 
does not often assume exclusive or supreme possession. There are two 
methods by which this activity is interrupted and turned aside. The one 
is objective, the other is subjective. 

. § 261. We consider, first, the objective interruption. Every 

ruptions to this new object of sense-perception introduces a foreign and 
diverting element. Representation gives way to presenta- 
tion or acquisition. We do not deny that both these activities may 
be excited together, and that two series, of presentation and representa- 
tion, may go forward side by side. It would seem from experience 
that this often happens. In waking gently from sleep, the images of the 
dream-world blend with the realities of the sense-world. Even in our 
waking hours, the hard world which the senses give us, is constantly blended 
with the spirit-world in which we dream. Even in the thronged city, 
the crowded assembly, the pictured theatre, and the musical concert-room, 
when the entire energy is tasked and excited to do justice to the number- 
less objects that address the senses, the fancy is often apparently as busy as 
ever in its more crowded and exciting world, and finds itself hundreds of 
miles distant from the absorbing scene. The soberest world of the most 
prosaic and practical thinker is a silver tissue sparkling with the images 
which the fancy will persist in interweaving into its homely fabric. Let all 
this be admitted, and still it is true that the two species of activity cannot 
occupy the attention at the same moment with equal energy ; and that the 
sense-world and sense-objects will break in upon the activity of the fancy. 
Let but a single object do this for a single instant, and a starting-point is 
furnished for a new train of thought in an entirely new direction. 



§ 263. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPBESENTATION. 291 

§ 262. The subjective interruption, diversion, and control of 
fu 1} io C Ds Ve inter " ^e r ep res entative activity of the soul, are still more impor 

tant. The ego which at times may seem to be the helpless 
victim or the amused spectator of this moving diorama, is not always an 
idle or passive looker-on. It has but to detain any single object by simple 
caprice perhaps, or at the impulse of interested emotion, and the object 
detained and repeated suggests new objects, to each of which it sustains 
many relations. By simply arresting the course of representation, its 
independent activity is as truly controlled and newly directed as if some 
object of sense had obtruded itself upon the attention. 

But the mind can do that which is far more effective and important 
than to detain an object before its attention from simple impulse of emo 
tion. It must exert upon every such object its higher and nobler activi- 
ties, for it cannot repress them. If it cognizes the existence of the object, 
it discerns it as present, and as diverse from itself. It may remember it 
as having before been present. It may compare it with other objects, 
bring it into a new or a familiar class, name it, reason about it, make from 
it some induction, mould from it some imaginative creation, apply it in 
illustration or analogy, discern in it relations of beauty, learn from it some 
moral lesson, or find in it some manifestation of the divine. Each one of 
these activities will evolve a new product, which product may serve as a 
starting-point for a new series of representations. These activities are far 
more potent and effective than the merely passive services of the repre- 
senting power, though they blend Avith them so intimately as not easily 
to be distinguished from them. So rapid are all these higher actions to a 
well-trained intellect, that the mind seems to be pouring out the ore of 
gathered wealth at the feet of the recipient, when it is, in fact, recasting 
and restamping each portion anew. As the mind mingles the thinking 
power with the activity of perception, when it seems only to see and 
hear with the organs of sense, so does it elevate and transform its acts of 
memory and fancy by the penetrating analysis and combining synthesis of 
rational judgment in all the varieties of activity and production. 

We have already shown (§ 234) that the representative power is that which is pre- 
eminently serviceable to thought. It works more rapidly than sense or consciousness. It in 
fact elaborates the actualities of present and raw experience into refined materials for thought 
to rework a second time. It enables the rational power in many ways to proceed more quickly, 
and with fewer encumbrances, to its own results. 

Association not § 2 ^ 3 * That is a most superficial and untrue conception to 
the only nor the take of the representative power and the laws of association, 

most important L x 

power. which resolves into them all the nobler and more important 

operations and products of the human soul. Such a view excludes indi- 
vidual energy and self-respect — as well as the capacity for moral relations 
to one's self, to our fellow-men, and to God. 



292 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 264. 

In one aspect, the mind may be properly said to be entirely dependent 
on the necessary workings of the laws of representation. It cannot think 
of any object which the phantasy does not bring within its field of vision, 
[f phantasy be limited, or feeble, or slow, or torpid, through original con 
stitution or the neglect of culture, it will furnish these objects slowly, 
feebly, and scantily ; if it be rapid and energetic, it will marshal them 
swiftly, and strongly, and abundantly. So far as it acts as phantasy only, 
it obeys these conditions ; but this it does but rarely when in a normal 
and wakeful state. So far as it reacts upon the materials which phantasy 
furnishes, or coacts with itself as representing, by also thinking and cre- 
ating — which it does almost always — so far does it direct, and originate 
new trains, and, in so doing, exert its active power. 

This active power is to a great extent dependent on the strength and direction 
largely upon the of the emotions and sensibilities. What a man makes of the materials which 
emotions and re p resen t a tion furnishes by detaining or elaborating them, will of course depend 

upon his feelings, both momentary and permanent. The feeling which hap- 
pens to be uppermost will direct to the acceptance or rejection of the thought which pleases 
or displeases. The desire which prevails will direct to the use which is made of the object 
while it is thus detained. Permanent moods or habits of feeling in this way direct the 
energies. The voluntary activities and states, so far as they control the feelings, become the 
moving forces to all the other acts and products of the soul. 

8 264. Besides this direct action upon the representative 

Indirect control " _ ,'",'"'. , -i • i . ,. -i •/> mi 

over the associa- faculty, there is another which acts indirectly, if possible 
with still greater effect. The action is direct when, in the 
ways described, the ego arrests and modifies the onward current of what 
would otherwise be passive tendencies. It is indirect so far as, by every 
such action, a greater facility or force is given to such tendencies for the 
future. Every present energy of attention, every special effort of crea- 
tion or thought, gives additional strength to certain bonds of association, 
and imparts special facility to the mind in reviving their objects. A prece- 
dence is thereby established for certain trains of thought. They come a 
second time, and ever afterward, more easily and naturally. This very 
circumstance enables us to apply the mind to similar objects with less 
effort and greater pleasure, till, at last the mind has created for itself 
almost a new medium of life, a second atmosphere for its own easy and 
familiar action, which is purely the product of its own previous activities. 
The feelings provide for their own perpetuation and increased force as they 
direct to this or that intellectual activity; as they furnish for the next 
occasion the very objects and relations which are the best fitted to excite 
them a second time, and end at last by giving them almost exclusive pos- 
session of the soul. The habits of feeling, the moods of good or ill tem- 
per, of depression or cheerfulness, of openness or suspicion, in this way 
tend to become permanent and more intense. Hence, preeminently, every 
controlling or commanding purpose, whether morally good or bad, tends 



§265. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPRESENTATION. 293 

to perpetuate itself, and to secure the execution of its own behests. First. 
It prompts the mind to detain those objects which have relation to itself 
second, it impels it to consider them with the utmost force of attention. 
Thus are developed and strengthened those tendencies, in obedience to 
*v~hich the mind learns at last to think of those objects, and only those, 
svhich it requires, and to use them in its service with dexterity and readi- 
ness. Under the constant presence and guiding control of such a purpose, 
all the trains of associated objects become its " ready servitors," which 
bring to mind, when needed, the facts and suggestions, the illustrations 
and arguments, the happy phrases and expressive words, which are re- 
quired for thought, expression, and act. 

Various familiar phenomena illustrate the force of these indirect influences 
Illustrations upon the representative faculty. The same material object suggests to 

phenomena. different persons associations that are entirely unlike and even opposite to 

one another. The scene, the house, the apartment, which to one man is full 
of the deepest interest, is to another indifferent. To one person it recalls suggestions fraught 
with peace, affection, and joy ; to another, memories of hatred, remorse, and terror. The 
name of this or that great personage is fragrant with inspiration to the ear and soul of 
some ; while from the mind of another it elicits the response of simple recognition. To one 
man, the names of Kepler, of Newton, of Raphael, or of Beethoven, call up simply the place 
and date of their birth ; to another, the thought of their achievements ; the one may incite to 
special reflections upon their science or art ; the other to the secret of their skill and success. 
To the same man, on different occasions and in different moods, the same object will suggest 
different associations, according to the feelings of the hour or the purpose for which he is 
thinking. We may almost say without exaggeration, that in every present activity of the 
mind there is revived and indirectly made to reappear the whole of the man's previous history, 
as each of its acts and events have been taken up by the force of the soul's purely passive 
tendencies, and so incorporated into its very essence. 

8 265. The law of association, according to the views of its 

Law of associa- " . » % * 

tion and law of nature and energy which have been enforced, rests upon the 
same original principle which explains the law of habit 
One object suggests another, because one mental state which is similar in 
part to another tends to be like it in every particular. This principle, 
when expressed in other language, is equivalent to — any mental activity or 
experience, when it is repeated, is more readily performed. 

The question has often been mooted, and sometimes earnestly discussed, 
Which is re- Which of these principles is fundamental and original — the principle of asso- 
other 1 ciation, or the principle of habit ? Keid contends for the principle of habit 

(Essay, iv. chap. 4). Dugald Stewart urges that the principle of habit can be 
resolved into the laws of association (Elements, p. i. § 6). Hamilton observes, in a note upon 
Reid, that " we can as well explain habit by association, as association by habit." This last 
remark is true only if we admit — as Stewart, Hume, and others, seem to assume — that associa- 
tion is to be resolved into an attractive force between kindred ideas or relations as such. We 
have contended that such an attraction, as a force independent of the relation they have to 
the subjective state or activity of the mind apprehending them, is altogether inconceivable. 
If the force is derived from this source, then it must be resolved into the law of facility of 
repetition in similar acts or states. Hamilton, in accepting the law of redintegration, is 



294 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §267. 

forced by consistency to adopt the same theory, and in the last analysis to " explain associa 
tion by habit." 

§ 266. Which of these is the more philosophical theory is 
Theory of habit, evident not only from the considerations which have already 

been urged, but from the very conception of habit and its 
operation in all the departments of being in which it prevails. 

Habit, Lat. habitus, Gr. e^,?, is literally a way of being held, or of 
holding one's self. Thus defined, it must denote a permanent state of rest 
which has been reached as the result of action or growth, or a permanent 
form of activity, or of readiness or facility for any kind of activity. As 
such facility for action is universally observed to result from repetition of 
action, this last element is taken up into the conception or definition of 
habit. The acquisition of facility by repetition, supposes that some diffi 
culty or hindrance has been overcome. 

In whatever department of nature habit is observed, often a 

Supposes some . ... . . 

difficulty to be difficulty is noticed m the beginning, whether the habits are 

overcome. ° ° 

purely psychical or corporeal, or whether they are both physi- 
cal and mental conjoined ; whether they are emotional or moral, or whether, 
as is often true, they are all three together. 

Examples of bodily habits are furnished by a particular gait ; the dexter- 
ous management of the hand in the use of a saw, a chisel, a hatchet, or a 
plane, in driving or in drawing ; and the control of the limbs in dancing or 
gymnastic feats. The acquisition of such habits does indeed usually involve 
the use of the mind, and the gain of facility in such use. But we may consider apart the for- 
mation of the body only to a new habitude, and for the moment have to do only with the 
changes in the states and functions of the body which our senses observe to be more and more 
readily made. We will afterward consider the more facile and dexterous dealing of the mind 
with the body through the sensations of which we are conscious. We suppose, that at the out- 
set the special use required is difficult, either because some habitual and undesirable adjustment 
or predisposition of the muscles has been attained, or because they are imperfectly or wrongly 
adjusted by nature. An effort is required involving physical tension or physical pain ; as 
when we would bring the organs to utter the unused sounds of a strange language, or would 
bring the fingers or the limbs to painful or constrained positions. We may explain the obstacle 
or hindrance by a certain power or tendency of the reflex activities of the nervous system. 
The conquest may consist in the facility which it is possible to acquire, by a gradual 
assumption by the reflex motors of new forms of muscular adjustment. Whether or not this 
is a satisfactory explanation of the difficulty and its conquest, the difficulty and its conquest are 
observed and experienced in the attitudes and adjustments of the body. That the human 
body, in its growth and training, is capable of acquiring, by use, the facile and even spontane- 
ous use of its powers, is an original fact which is too obvious to be questioned. With this 
law or principle, which operates in and over the body, it is obvious that the association of 
ideas or sensations can have nothing to do, for there are no ideas or sensations to be asso- 
ciated or united together. 

§ 267. We pass next to mental habits— -first, those which are 

obstacles to be developed in connection with such bodily adjustments as we 

have supposed ; and second, those which concern functions 



§ 267. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF KEP11ESENTATION. 295 

that are simply and purely mental. Side by side with the new adjustments 
to which the muscles are constrained with a more and more ready obedience 
there must proceed a constantly increased facility in the mind's connection 
and control of the appropriate sensations, according to the ends which it 
intends to accomplish ; or rather, the movements of the mind are the real 
beginnings of the new adjustments and growths of the body. The jug- 
gler and the gymnast, the mechanic and the artist, the dancer and the 
player on the yiolin or the organ, do not simply train the bodily organs to 
the requisite suppleness and aptitudes, but they acquire a surprising readi- 
ness of the mind to connect with every movement the sensations which 
indicate the activities and efforts to which the body is physically 
trained. If a mental facility supposes a mental difficulty, what is this 
difficulty ? It is, first of all, a difficulty of mental application to certain 
mental objects, and, with this, a difficulty in the ready mental combination 
of the objects which are required. This intellectual obstacle is usually 
increased, and in some cases wholly occasioned, by one that is emotional 
or moral. The occupation of the mind with this particular class of 
objects, or of objects in this special form, is not agreeable. Hence, the 
great secret of success is to excite an interest of some kind in the sub- 
jects that are proposed or the efforts which are required. A difficulty or 
hindrance of some sort must be supposed as an original fact, in order to 
explain the universal and palpable necessity and attainment of intellectual 
progress and growth. The force to be overcome cannot exist in ideas or 
relations as such, but in the mind's own acts concerning ideas and rela- 
tions. If this is the case, the difficulty must arise from an original defi- 
ciency in the aptitudes of all men for certain applications of the energies to 
certain objects and relations, and for the exercise of certain mental pow- 
ers. We must, as has already been asserted, assume as an ultimate fact 
that for all men a certain exercise of sense-perception is easy, while the 
close application of consciousness is difficult. So also concrete knowledge 
is easy ; generalized or abstract knowledge is difficult. To some, the study 
of language is natural, while the study of the mathematics is especially 
repulsive. 

In habits that are purely mental, as in the greater facility that is acquired by 
Wherein the study in general, or the surprising progress which may be made in any 
difficulty lies. special science, as the mathematics or the languages, or the still more 

unlooked-for dexterity which may be gained in certain intellectual feats, as 
of punning, rhyming, etc., etc., the difficulty lies in a reluctant or unwonted attention, and the 
dexterity pertains to the subjective tendency toward similar activities which is acquired by 
exercise. The difficulty and the facility are assumed to be unquestioned and original facts. 

When the habits are purely emotional or moral, so far as they can be con- 
Emotional and ceived as such, the difficulty to be encountered is a natural or acquired ten- 
moral habits. dency in an emotion to excessive and abnormal activity. This tendency can 

be overcome only by the frequent exercise of other emotions, till they act 
with proper readiness and strength. Leaving out of account the voluntary element, or rathei 



296 the HUMAisr intellect. §269. 

supposing that this is rightly adjusted, it may be assumed that this original difficulty in 
the natural tendencies remains when the new habits are to be acquired. 

The completion of mo^al or emotional habits ordinarily involves also the training of the 
intellectual habits to the ready suggestion of new thoughts, and very often of the body 
itself, to readiness in appropriate actions. 

This general survey of the extent and common features of the conditions and the 
operation of habit brings of itself an argument of strong probability in favor of the view 
which we have taken, that the law of mental suggestion or association is only a special form of 
this general law or principle. 

§ 268. The laws of association are again divided into higher 

Higher and low- ° rm t t i • -i ■» 

er laws of asso- and lower. The lower, are those which are presented to us 

ciation. ... 

in the acquisitions of sense and consciousness, and which are 
reproduced by the representative imagination or the uncultured memory. 
These are the relations of time and space. As they are more obvious and 
natural, they require little of higher culture or discipline. They are also 
developed earliest in the order of time, and are common to the whole race. 
The relations of likeness and of contrast form an intermediate class be- 
tween the natural and the philosophical ; being now present in the one, 
and then largely represented in the other. The higher, are the relations 
of cause and effect/ involving means and end, premise and conclusion, 
datum and inference, genus and species, law and example — all, in short, 
of the so-called philosophical or logical relations. All these are present 
in and control the higher imagination and the more developed processes 
of thought. 

It is to be observed, that these relations are not higher or lower in the scale 
hi^h^and^ow- °^ ran ^ or dignity, as relations of association or representation merely, but 
er. as relations of original acquisition and thought. Inasmuch, however, as the 

intellectual power of men and their individual peculiarities, as well as the 
character of the products which result from the peculiarities of thought and feeling, depend 
on the movements of the representative faculty ; the rank, the comparative dignity, and 
mutual influence of these relations, deserve special consideration. What a man is, is con- 
veniently described and most satisfactorily accounted for by the recognition of the leading 
connections and guiding principles after which thoughts come into his mind. The products of 
his intellect in his conversation, his writings, and his reasonings, as also in his beliefs and his 
principles, reflect the operation of these relations as lower and higher (cf. Dugald Stewart, 
Elements, p. i. § 6). 

The higher often § 269. The higher relations of thought and of the creative 

prevail over and ... - •»• n -i -t « 

displace the low- imagination are so diverse from the lower relations of sense, 
that they often supersede and displace them, if they do not 
cross and contradict them. In sense-perception and consciousness, objects 
most opposed and incongruous are conjoined, just as they happen to present 
themselves in space or in time. The mechanical memory or imagination 
servilely reproduces them under precisely the same relations in which they 
were originally presented and known. But thought and the higher im- 
agination take the objects thus accidentally conjoined, and recombine and 
reproduce them under the relations that are higher; selecting, perhaps, 



§ 270. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPRESENTATION. 297 

a few prominent facts or elements as the prominent objects of its intel- 
lectual energy, and leaving the rest unnoticed and unregarded. It is quite 
easy to see how it is possible that this higher activity of representation 
may in many individuals greatly prevail over that which is lower, so fai 
even as to exclude the normal and natural influence of the latter. By such 
excess, many not uncommon diversities of intellectual and moral character 
can easily be explained, and those striking idiosyncrasies of imagination 
and memory can be accounted for which are designated by the vaguely- 
used term, absent-mindedness. 

The absent-minded person is one who has habitually become so indifferent 
Absent-minded- and inattentive to the objects which address his senses, through preoccu- 
ness exp aine . p a tj n with a roving imagination or abstracted thought, that his senses seem 

often to be unused, and his memory to be utterly untrustworthy. He be- 
comes sublimely, or perhaps ridiculously, indifferent to the common relations of common 
objects and events. The effect upon the memory and the imagination of a similar reversal 
of the intentions of nature, will be explained under the appropriate heads. 

§ 270. As the higher may take the place of the lower 
place thlnighS" relations, so the lower may exclude or displace the higher. 

The constant or even the frequent conjunction of objects 
and phenomena may in consequence be mistaken for their necessary rela- 
tions or essential conditions or constituents. A savage, who should see 
gunpowder exploded by an electric spark, would associate the whole of 
the electric apparatus, and perhaps even the words and the dress of the 
operator, with the occurrence of the explosion, and take the combination 
to be made by a necessary connection of things. The ignoramus who 
sees a conjurer perform certain manipulations, or hears him repeat the 
words of some incantation in connection with a surprising feat, unites the 
two by an association so inveterate as to believe that the one is the cause 
of the other. The manifold and inveterate superstitions that have been 
so readily accepted anil so tenaciously retained, are in this way to be ex- 
plained. Startling or noticeable events have occurred together by a merely 
casual connection, which have been henceforward associated as essential 
the one to the other ; as, to success in battle, the healing of disease, the 
removal of an epidemic, the termination of drought, the cessation of an 
eclipse, or the acceptable performance of some religious rite. 

We assume that the original observation of the relation of events conjoined, may have 
been hasty, and that the judgment reached has been in consequence unauthorized. There has 
been no real discernment of the cause, or law, or adaptation that was sought for. Some 
unessential connection has taken their place, and the objects casually united in a hasty 
observation being perpetually presented in a conjunction of time or place, are associated so 
fixedly, that the philosophical or religious superstition has a show of plausibility or reason. 
Whether it has or not, it retains its hold upon the mind. Nor are errors of this sort confined 
to uncultured and ignorant races or uneducated men. Men of quick association and ready 
suggestion, even if they attain the highest culture in many directions, often scorn that disci- 
pline to philosophical thinking of which they stand in special need because, from the verj 



298 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §271. 

quickness of their power to combine, they are most liable to mistake the asssociations of 
their various and ready wit for the sober and solid relations of thought. 

rhe lower asso- § 271. The lower associations — those of constant or frequent 
the feelings most conjunction — are most observable when they strongly affect 
our feelings. Objects which are in themselves indifferent, 
or which ought to be and would otherwise be positively offensive, excite 
the intensest misliking, simply because they are connected in our thoughts 
with objects which in their essential nature are fitted to please or dis- 
please us. For example, a dress that itself, in color, form, and fitting, 
is tasteful, becomes permanently displeasing, as well as any that resemble 
it, because it brings distinctly to mind a very disagreeable person who 
wore it. The remembrance of a journey, or some other event of our per- 
sonal history, is always unwelcome, because it was connected in our expe- 
rience, and is therefore associated in our thoughts, with some serious 
disappointment or calamity. The sight of the surgeon who saved our 
life by performing a painful operation, is not always agreeable, however 
sincere may be our gratitude. Certain persons are very pleasing or very 
displeasing, because they bring to mind memories or thoughts which we 
cherish or reject. 

A dress of the newest fashion may be at first singular and unattractive. But 
How and why it is soon generally worn by those who are attractive in appearance, graceful 
fashions change. an( j re fi ne( j ^ manners, and high in social position. It is soon regarded as 

in itself highly graceful and agreeable, till no other is tolerable. It is not 
long before it becomes common, and this detracts somewhat from its factitious attractions. 
When it is worn obtrusively by the filthy and vulgar, and becomes conspicuous in connection 
with persons who are rightfully disagreeable, it is time that this fashion should change, or that 
some other novelty should appear, in order to relieve the associations of the fashionable world 
from the offensive taint of vulgarity. 

The moral influence of accidental associations is still more 

The moral infiu- . _ .. „• s . 

ence of casual worthy of attention, for their power ior evil as well as their 
capacity for good. Pleasing manners, high intellectual cul- 
ture, the attractions of wealth and position, may be combined with liber- 
tine principles and easy morals, and thus become powerful aids and instru- 
ments of vice and corruption. The drunken revel may, by the force of 
associations of this kind, not only be endured as less disgusting, but it 
may be gloried in by the aspirant after high society, as the sign of gentle- 
manly breeding and fashionable life. The horrors of the first cigar and 
the first debauch are greatly alleviated by manifold suggestions that the 
experience of both are necessary to constitute the gentleman. The easy 
manners, the gay life, and the generous hospitality of the cavaliers of 
Charles I, and of the courtiers of Charles II, lent a charm to their cause 
and a fascination to their name and memory ; while the unnatural strict- 
ness, the over-stiff manners, and the precise pedantry of the Puritans have 
caused their pure morals, their patriotic heroism, and their fervent piety to 



§272. THE CONDITIONS AND LAWS OF REPRESENTATION. 29i l 

be odious in the minds of many noble men, and have burdened their very 
name with associations of contempt and reproach. 

§ 272. The force of casual associations is in no particular 

Influence of cas- . , . _ 

uai associations more conspicuous than m its influence upon language. A 

deed that is abhorrent to the conscience and offensive to the 
judgment and feelings of right-minded and plain-speaking men, is more 
than half reconciled to the moral feelings, and perhaps is installed among 
the virtues, by softening or dignifying the appellations by which it is 
named — that is, by designating it by words that suggest associations of 
respectability and honor. Men seek to keep down or to avoid associations 
of disgust or abhorrence by the device of euphemistic terminology. It is 
not always true that ' vice loses half its evil by losing all its grossness ; ' 
for the very grossness which is its natural manifestation and result, is 
sometimes the best defence of society against the corruption to which it 
tends. To seek to divest it of the offensive associations which this gross- 
ness is fitted to excite, by substituting associations which are less unpleas- 
ant, is often to defeat one of the intentions of nature, which would keep 
the conscience honest and true, if she cannot make the conduct right 
(cf. J. S. Mill, Logic, B. iv. chap. v. §§ 3, 4). 

The power of epithets and names to awaken pleasant or 
and C names itliet8 un P^ easant associations is well illustrated in the history of 

parties and in the practice of partisans. A party that is en- 
cumbered by an epithet or appellation of odious associations or disagree- 
able origination, hastens to disencumber itself of an appendage that is 
more fatal than the shirt of Nessus ; while its opponents are as eager and 
determined that it shall retain the damaging reproach. There are cities 
of Europe in which the use by one man to another of certain epithets or 
gestures, which of themselves are harmless and innocent, is resented as the 
deadliest of insults, simply because these are associated with a shameful 
and humiliating passage in their history. The skilful application of epi- 
thets like Whig and Tory, Malignant and Roundhead, Girondists and 
the Mountain, Conservative and Radical, is often more efficient with the 
populace than the most convincing arguments or the most persuasive elo- 
quence. Agreeable associations, through the subtle reaction of language, 
have not only palliated — they have even recommended the most contempt- 
ible follies, the most outrageous violence, and the most abominable 
crimes. 

Even philosophy herself, though professing to be subject to thought-relations 
Their influence only, is by no means exempt from the influence of casual associations oper- 
in philosophy. a ting through this same medium of words. It is often more effective, even 

in the schools, to apply an epithet, as sensuous or spiritual, empirical or 
rational, unselfish or utilitarian, than it is to disprove an analysis or answer an argument — to 
give an opinion an odious name, or apply a contemptuous epithet, than to consider its evidence 
or refute its reasons. The soberest and the best-governed men are more or less affected by 
individual associations in their tastes, their preferences, their manners, their reading, thei? 



jOO the human intellect. § 273. 

ompanions, their politics, and their faith. "We could not be wholly aloof or exempt from 
their influence if we would. We would not if we could ; for, in so doing, we should forego 
much of our individuality, and of that which makes our individuality dear. But it is the 
interest and duty of every man so far to regulate the influence of such associations, that he 
does not become the easy victim or the abject slave of chance and arbitrary circumstances. 
Whatever is right and true cannot be disagreeable, when it is sustained, adorned, and hal- 
lowed by associations that are only attractive. Indeed, it is not till the reason and conscience 
rule so completely over the whole man, as to transform and elevate even the individual and 
casual associations, that the education of man is complete, and his character has attained that 
harmony and perfection of which it is capable. 



CHAPTER IV. 

REPRESENTATION. — (l.) THE MEMORY, OR RECOGNIZING FACULTY. 

Having considered the conditions and laws of the representative power, we proceed to apply 
the results of our inquiries to the explanation of the principal modes in which its activ- 
ity is exerted — to the so-called faculties of memory, phantasy, and imagination. The 
memory comes first in order, because it is at once the most natural and yet the most 
perfect form in which the power is used. 

The elements § 2 ^ 3 * -^ n act or state °^ memor y has already been denned 
essential to an ^o ^ e fa^ m w hich the essential elements of an act of pre- 

act oi memory. ^ 

vious cognition are more or less perfectly re-known, both 
objective and subjective, with the relations essential to each. These ele- 
ments are not all recalled with the same distinctness, and hence, there are 
varieties of memory ; but it is essential to an act of memory that some 
portion of each of these elements and relations should be recalled and 
reknown. 

For example : I remember an event which occurred an hour ago — that a friend made me a 
call, or passed me, as I was walking in the street. What is involved in this act of memory ? 
First of all, I must reproduce the image of my friend as before me, or as he passed ; second, 
I must recall the image or recollection of myself as seeing or conversing with him, perhaps 
with more or less feeling. Unless both these elements are recalled, the object perceived or in 
some way cognized, and myself in the act of apprehending and perhaps of feeling — i. e., the 
objective and subjective elements — the act cannot be an act of memory. If we recall or 
represent any event or object, and say we remember it, we must also recall ourselves in some 
act or state related to it. Third, the act of originally knowing the object or event was my act 
— i. e. t I, the same being who now recall and reknow it in the ways described, did know it 
before. The act of knowing the object, and of having known it, are acts of the same being. 
Fourth, the two acts are in this process also distinguished as before and after, the present as 
actual, the past, both act and object, as having been actual. This involves the distinctions of 
before and after, or the relations of succession involving time. Fifth, in the original act of 
observation I must have been in some place, and the object observed must have sustained 
some relation to attending or accompanying objects. Neither myself nor the object can ordi- 



§274. EEPEESENTATION. — THE MEMORY. 301 

narily be recalled without some of these accompaniments involving relations to space. Sixth, 
the objective and subjective elements, and the relations which they involve, thus recalled as 
images, must be known to represent realities. What is involved in this relation of the image 
to a reality, and how it is possible, has already been discussed and explained (P. II. c. ii.). 

These elements § 2 ^4. These are the necessary elements in an act or state 
wfth be unequal °f memory. But though they must all be present and enter 
perfection. j n ^ g^^ a state, they need not be present with the same 

fulness or distinctness at all times, nor with the same relative fulness at 
the same time. The total complex of objects and relations may be re- 
called more or less perfectly, or each of the constituent elements may be 
more or less vividly represented. 

First : The object of the original act may be recalled with a 

fho object prop- J ° . J 

or, of the origi- greater or less completeness 01 its elements or parts. If the 
object be purely a thought-object which we remember to 
have cognized before, or a material object which is now present only as a 
mental image, it may be only vaguely recalled at best, and its constituent 
elements may be only very scantily reproduced. Even if it is a sense- 
object which we perceive a second time, and remember as having been 
perceived before, it may be that only a very small number of its distin- 
guishable parts can be thus recalled, as having been thus previously per- 
ceived. 

Second : The original act of the mind in the first apprehen- 

oiTknow&e 8,0 ' s * on ma y a ^ so ^ e more or ^ ess perfectly recalled. I see a face 
in a crowd. I recall it perfectly, and know that I have seen 
it before ; but I cannot revive a single vestige of myself as viewing it, only 
that I did thus view it I am certain by direct knowledge. And yet we 
must have this recollection of our previous activity or feeling, or we cannot 
be said to remember it at all. This certain knowledge may vary from the 
vaguest possible impressions of our subjective state, to the most vivid and 
circumstantial reviewal of every part or feature. 

It might perhaps be suggested that this is not literally true of all remembered objects, 
especially of those with which we are the most familiar, and which we are most certain that 
we have often known ; as the streets and houses of our place of residence, or the persons of 
our most familiar friends, or the facts of familiar knowledge, as the dates of the accession 
of the sovereigns of England, of the beginning of our own national life, and the myriad 
familiar facts of school acquisition. We are accustomed to say that we remember these 
objects ; and yet we do not in all, nor in most cases, distinctly recall our act or state when we 
first learned them, nor any previous act in which we accepted them as true. We may not 
dwell upon such acts or states, it is true, because we do not give the associating power time or 
play enough to call up so complete a picture ; but if we could not recall some such previous 
act of perception or assent, we do not properly remember the object. 

Third : The time when the object was previously known may 

its relations of k e m0 re or less perfectly recalled. If I remember an object 

viewed or experienced half an hour ago, I may recall the 



302 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §275 

leading events which have happened to me from the present moment back- 
ward to the original act of acquiring this knowledge. If it was yester- 
day, or a month since, I can generally recall the events that were just 
before and after it, and can connect it with the present by more or fewer 
intervening occurrences, can fix the date so far as to know that it was in 
a certain month of a certain year ; the attendants of which dates I can 
recover with more or less fulness. 

In some cases, the event stands isolated in the dim and undetermined past. In others, it 
may not be wholly isolated from the events which preceded, accompanied, or followed, but yet 
it can scarcely be said to be united with the present by any connecting series of events that 
intervene. 

Fourth: The place where, may be more or less perfectly 
piLe dations ° f reca ^ e( ^ an( i recognized. The place where, is a phrase which 

denotes the adjacent and surrounding physical objects in 
their spatial relations, which form the background and the setting of every 
object perceived or every act of the person who remembers. Every object 
previously observed, every act of my own in observing it, when them- 
selves recalled, will bring back this accompanying setting more or less 
perfectly, according as these accompaniments were originally regarded 
with a more or less energetic and interested attention, or as a longer or 
shorter time is allowed for the process of suggestion and recovery. 
i ■ M § 275. Fifth : The knowledge of the real existence or actual 

Theactofrecog- u , . • ■% . 

nition may vary perception of remembered objects may also vary in the 

in positiveness. x x ...... 

degree or accuracy or confidence with which it is held, h or 
this simple knowledge no other explanation can be given, than that the 
mind is competent to its exercise. The question is sometimes asked, Why 
do we trust our memory ? To this philosophers have sought to. give an 
answer by enumerating certain grounds or criteria — as that the object 
must be clear, or that the image recalled must represent or agree with the 
reality. But all these criteria, or grounds, are merely other words or 
phrases, which express no more than the act of knowledge itself. 

But does the mind always know — i. e. y remember — with equal certainty? 
Do we never dis- Does it not sometimes distrust its own act in remembering ? And is there 
ras^ e mem- not a difference observed between the act of doubting and of confidently 

remembering, which justifies us in trusting the one and in distrusting the 
other ? We answer : When we distrust our own act of memory, it is we ourselves who are 
not certain. We seek to be certain ; sometimes we succeed, and pass from the condition of 
painful doubt into that of confident knowledge. The object which was vaguely recalled now 
stands vividly and distinctly before the eye of the mind. But the clearness and distinctness 
of the objects are not the real causes which effect, or the logical grounds on which we rest 
our positive knowledge. The terms distinct and distinctly, objectively describe the sub- 
jective certainty, but do not account for or justify it. When we distrust our memory, wo 
are aware of our own distrust — we are clearly and perfectly certain that we do not positively 
remember. But as soon as we do remember, we not only know that we are confident, but wc 
know that that concerning which we are thus confident was indeed a reality. 



I 276. REPRESENTATION — THE MEMORY. 303 

1 But do we not sometimes offer reasons to satisfy or prove to ourselves that 

Do we not offer yfaox we remember must have been a fact ? ' We do often enumerate the 
feasons for trust- 
ing it 1 circumstances which assure us that we cannot be mistaken, but not as logical 

reasons to justify the conclusion that we are in the right, nor as decisive 
triteria to distinguish that which is imagined, from that which actually took place. We bring 
them up as particulars on which we dwell with attention, for the purpose of recreating a more 
complete and vivid picture of the past. In this sense we are said to refresh our memory — as 
i witness in court is asked or urged to do, when one or another circumstance is repeated in 
tris hearing, or he is left to his own associations to revive the past. We are sometimes said to 
verify our memory, but only in this sense : We say, I cannot be mistaken, for it was on such 
a day and in such a place, and such a person or persons were present, etc., etc. ; but all this i3 
simply our own thinking aloud, as we paint into the mental picture one element after another ; 
our certainty all the while becoming more positive. We may indeed urge this number of 
remembered particulars as reasons why others should trust our accuracy since our remem- 
brance is so full and detailed, but not as grounds or criteria for our own confidence. For this 
confidence we can give no other reason than that we find ourselves possessed of and using the 
power for this very function, which is, to remember. And yet this act is exercised, as is every 
other act of the soul, with unequal energy. Our confidence admits of various degrees, from 
the lowest belief of objects indistinctly recalled, to the highest confidence concerning past 
scenes vividly and fully reproduced. 



§ 276. A more exact and technical description of memory 
SiTdefine 3 ? 111 " wou ^ ^ e tne following. Memory is a modification of repre- 
sentation. It supposes the representative power to be re- 
quired in order to furnish the materials, conditions, or objects for itself 
to work with or upon, according to the laws of association or sugges- 
tion. These objects being furnished, the memory, or the mind in memory, 
knows them by an act of recognition. More briefly, representation recalls, 
memory recognizes. The soul, in representation, is passive, blind, and 
mechanical, proceeding according to fixed and inevitable laws, by methods 
or processes which occcur beyond or out of consciousness. The soul, in 
memory, on the other hand, is active, intelligent, and rational. The dis- 
tinction between representation and memory, so far as our actual expe- 
rience is concerned, is rather ideal than real, for representation passes into 
memory by an inevitable certainty, through the easiest, the most natural, 
and usually the most unnoticed transitions. The laws of representation are 
certain, if suffered to act long enough, to bring before the mind those 
materials which, when presented, it usually assents to by an act of knowl- 
edge or recognition, which is memory. 



The psychologists of the associational school provide for only half the process— that of 
representation. The recognition they attempt to explain, but unsuccessfully, by the chem- 
istry of association — i. e. y by the union or blending of a present with a past mental state. 

Representation and memory may, however, with propriety and advantage, be ideally con- 
sidered apart. At times they are really separate. Objects may be represented, but not 
recognized, through haste, or the diversion of the attention, or some unexplained withholding 
of the act of knowledge. 



304 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 278. 

§ 277. Representation, conceived apart from memory, may 
the P S n efeni°<Kit begin with a mental image, and by the laws of its own 

activity present another, and still another, till all at once the 
intelligence asserts, ' That one now presented I have perceived or known 
before. ' Or the object may be material, and first perceived by the senses. 
In such a case, representation, at once supplies a completing image or 
thought, and memory pronounces, ■ This very object have I perceived 
before.' According as the occasion to memory is a mental or a perceived 
object, do the phenomena of memory differ. 

Memory, on the other hand, as distinguished from represen- 
fiecond^ilment 16 tat i° n j * s an act °f knowledge. To know, requires objects, 

and the discernment of their relations. The different kinds 
or modes of knowledge differ from one another both in the objects and 
relations known (§ 51). The conditions or objects of memory are pecu- 
liar, in that, as has just been explained, representation presents or suggests 
more or fewer of them. The relations under which they are discerned are, 
as we have shown at length, those of previous apprehension by myself in 
some determinate state of knowledge or feeling, at some previous time, 
and in some particular place. The act of knowledge, while it is thus dis- 
tinguished from other acts of knowledge by its objects and relations, is, 
however, like them, in that its objects and relations are realities, and its 
own subjective condition is certainty (§ 48). 

8 278. But while we thus distinguish in an ideal way, and 

The spontaneous " . . -,-,•■, 

and intentional by abstraction, the passive and the active element, both must 

memory. V ■ ' • ..... ■, ■,•■,-, 

be taken into consideration in order to explain the phenomena 
of memory ; for, in these phenomena, each of these elements modifies the 
other, and both appear in the activities and products of this most nimble 
and subtle agency of the soul. The two are related in memory somewhat 
as sensation proper and perception proper are combined in the acts of 
sense-perception — the one is inversely as the other. In certain acts and 
powers of memory, the passive or representational element is prominent 
and conspicuous ; in others, the active and rational is most apparent. Ac- 
cording to this feature, we distinguish the memory as spontaneous and 
intentional. In spontaneous memory, the object remembered, spontaneous- 
ly occurs to the mind. In intentional memory it is distinctly sought after 
until it is found. In spontaneous memory, the representative faculty is 
prominent, and acts according to its own appropriate laws, while the intel- 
ligence waits only to give its recognition to what is presented to its atten- 
tion. In intentional memory, the intelligence is active, being distinctly 
aware that some object has been previously known, to recall which it sum- 
mons the energies of the representative power according to its necessary 
laws. The two kinds of memory may be advantageously considered apart. 

The distinction of these two kinds of memory is so obvious, and is so readily observed, 
that it is not at all surprising that separate terms for the two have been employed in common 



§280. [REPRESENTATION. THE MEMORY. 305 

life, and are found in many languages. The Greeks have /luWjjlo? and b.v6.fxvr\<Tis ; the Latins, 
memoria and recordatio (cf. Cic. de Prov. 43) ; the English, memory and recollection. It is. 
of course, not pretended — and ought not to be expected — that these terms are always used 
with precision, or that the two are not often interchanged. The existence of two such terms, 
each with its appropriate shade of meaning, can, however, only be accounted for by the fact 
that the human consciousness has observed the differences explained. 

§ 279. In the spontaneous memory, there are natural apti- 
The spontaneous tudes and disabilities, which can only be referred to some 

memory. 

original difference of the mental constitution, which is prop- 
erly called a strength or weakness of the original powers. It is almost 
superfluous to repeat what has been abundantly explained, that such apti- 
tudes and disabilities do not pertain exclusively to the representative 
energy as such, but run through the whole circle of the intellectual and 
emotional activities and capacities. 

That such original differences do exist, is an unquestioned fact. For example : one per- 
son hears a series of unconnected names recited, and can repeat them all in the precise order 
in which they were uttered, while another can recall only now and then one. The eye of 
another runs down a column of figures, and he can copy the whole from memory, while his 
companion can scarcely recall a single one of the whole. One individual can learn a page of 
prose or poetry simply by reading or hearing it read but once, while another can with diffi- 
culty repeat correctly a single line or sentence. The power to perform long and intricate 
mathematical calculations in the head, which, as exhibited by some very young persons, like 
Zerah Colburn, is looked on as a miracle of genius, and hailed as a sign of extraordinary 
promise, depends chiefly on the capacity to hold and recall at pleasure the results of previous 
processes, so that they stand depicted before the mind's eye as though they were written or 
drawn upon a slate or blackboard. Now and then a rare scholar is met with, who from 
infancy has possessed the gift of retaining, so as to recall, every date, name, and separate fact 
which he has ever learned — upon whose mind, in short, every object that has ever been, 
acquired has left its transcript in a vivid and abiding picture. 

On<nnai differ- § ^80. That these differences are natural, is manifest from 
ences in the fjhig, that they cannot be remedied by any effort or art. No 

spontaneous ' J > . . 

memory. discipline of the attention, and no determination of the will, 

can enable one who is strikingly deficient, to acquire the power of this sim- 
ple and effortless memory. That the defect lies in some original inca- 
pacity, or some ineradicable habit to fix the attention with interest upon 
the objects to be recalled, and not upon the power of representation, is 
confirmed by observation upon cases of this kind, as well as by the gen- 
eral law of the workings of the representative power. That the strength 
or weakness in this kind of memory is not owing to the. physical strength 
or weakness of the organs of sense, but to the mental energy and the 
moral direction with which these physical instruments are applied, is abun- 
dantly manifest. Both these are, however, greatly affected by a normal 
and harmonized organization and healthy activity of the body, as well as 
by the coolness and serenity of the temper, according to laws which will be 
explained hereafter. After making the utmost allowance for the influence 
20 



306 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §282. 

of temperament, health, and circumstances of education and development, 
we are forced to the conclusion that there is a difference in the original 
endowments of the soul in respect to the force of its action upon single 
objects, as w T ell as in the reach or range of the relations which it can dis- 
cern with effect and recall with success. Analogous to differences in the 
spontaneous memory — if, indeed, they are not examples of it — are the 
varying capacities to recall a musical air so as to repeat it, or to revive the 
image of the voice or manners of another so as to imitate them. 

The relations which are employed in the natural memory are most conspicu- 
The relations ously those of simple contiguity and succession. All memory begins with 
peculiar to it. these relations, because our earliest energies and acquisitions commence with 

objects of this kind. The strength and range of the memory of facts is more 
obvious when it is seen as the memory of separate things, than as the memory of their higher 
relations. The earliest development of this power gives us the most striking exhibitions of 
the presence or absence of extraordinary natural gifts. In other words, there is a natural 
memory of space and of time, or, as we may say in a somewhat narrow sense, there is a natu- 
ral memory of the eye and of the ear. Using these terms, we observe that in some persons 
the memory of the eye, while in others the memory of the ear, is conspicuous. Those who are 
remarkable for the memory of the eye, are such as can readily form and distinctly revive men- 
tal pictures of objects in their spatial relations, as form, relative position, outline, and grouping, 
as also of gradations and contrasts of color. Such persons can readily picture in the mind 
the details of the front or facade of a building, the outline and filling in of some remarkable 
tree, the features of the face of an acquaintance or friend, the page of a book as presented to 
the eye. Those who are distinguished for the memory of the ear, or of time, can recall 
successions of sounds — if they have a musical ear, of musical notes— strings of names, or 
words when connected in significant sentences. They can repeat dates of uninteresting 
events, can retail long stories such as make up the gossip of a neighborhood, or the minutiae 
of the historic chronicler. Superiority in the one kind of memory is not believed to be usually 
accompanied by superiority in the other. 

§ 281. A good spontaneous memory, or, as it is often called, a good memory 

The value of a f or f ac t s an{ j dates, is generally and correctly regarded rather as a great intel- 

good spontane- >& j jo o 

ous memory. lectual convenience, than as a decisive indication of intellectual power. It is 

doubtless true, that many persons are distinguished by natural memory, who 
are inferior in capacity for discrimination, judgment, and reasoning. It has become a com- 
mon observation, Great memory, little common sense. In such cases, the power of discern- 
ing the higher relations may be either originally deficient, or it may be neglected in conse- 
quence of the predominant use of the power to apprehend, and, of course, to recall objects in 
the relations that are most obvious. A very energetic mind may be very limited in its appre- 
hensions, and will, of course, be energetic though limited in its memory. It is noticeable, also; 
that persons who become eminent in those achievements which are proper to the higher intel- 
lectual powers and relations, are in early life usually distinguished for the strength and reach 
of the memory of the eye and the ear. In many such cases extraordinary powers of this sort are 
observed in the person's own experience gradually to be diminished, till at last they entirely 
cease, as the higher powers of the intellect are completely matured, or are more constantly — 
in a sense — exclusively exercised. This does not invariably occur. There are striking exam- 
ples of persons who seem to forget nothing, neither in age nor in youth. 

S 282. There are not a few who carry into the maturity of age, and into the 
The combination ° ., . „, „ . , , . V . . , 

of a spontaneous most striking efforts of judgment and reasoning, a memory that is always 

nSmory. tl0nal clear > vivid » prompt, exact, and universal— a memory that never forgets a 
name, or loses a date, or is at fault in its recital of facts. Such are the men 



§284. 



REPRESENTATION. THE MEMORY. 



30? 



of universal knowledge, at least in their own department of study and research, like Scaligei 
tn ancient learning and criticism, Pascal, " that prodigy of parts," Niebuhr in history ana 
statistics, A. von Humboldt in physics both celestial and terrestrial, Eitter in geography, 
Goethe in literature and art. The reason that in these exempt cases the higher or intellectual 
memory does not displace the lower, is that the employments or studies of the individual 
require him to be conversant with details as well as with their thought-relations, with facts as 
well as with principles. Hence, the higher memory aids rather than hinders the lower ; the 
acquisitions of the quick eye and ear being fastened and fixed by the secondary processes of 
reflex thought. 

§ 283. The phenomena of the so-called intentional or volim- 
Smo^dSned 1 tar y mem ory next require our attention. They are charac- 
terized by this one general feature, that the objects remem- 
bered, instead of occurring to the mind unsought, are sought for by a con- 
scious effort or act. ' But how can this be possible ? The very state- 
ment involves a contradiction in language and an impossibility in fact. If 
the mind seeks, intending to find or recover an object lost, then it already 
knows what it see,ks for. In other words, the mind must already have 
remembered, in order to be put upon the act of endeavoring to recall.' In 
reply and explanation, we observe that, if every object remembered were 
in all cases remembered with equal fulness and vividness, then the objec- 
tion would hold. If, in order to remember at all, the mind must recall 
with equal energy and success all which, in the nature of the case, is 
capable of being reproduced, then 'to intend to remember 5 would be 
plainly precluded by our ' having already remembered.' But this is by no 
means true. The object remembered may be considered as an object — 
whether object-object or subject-object is immaterial — out of all conscious 
relation to the mind viewing or caring for it, or an object in such relation. 

Taken in the first sense, the object is capable of being recalled vaguely in its 
The object general outlines, and confusedly in its details, or it can stand out before the 
akeady. eye of the mind with the sharpest outline, and inclose a perfect picture of 

distinct minutice. We can recall a house-front, a pictured landscape, a human 
face, merely as a cloudlike form, through which scarcely a single distinguishable point is visi- 
ble, or sharp and definite in outline and full and distinct in detail. Intentional memory is 
possible whenever the mind can begin with this vague object, and, knowing that it has known 
it as a reality, can hold it to its attention, till, under the laws of representation, the whole 
emerges to conscious apprehension in every point, line, and color, and is remembered as real. 

. § 284. But the object of memory is more appropriately the 
relation to the obiect in some relation to the previous activitv of the soul 

knowing mind. . " . - 1 - . J 

m some given place and at some given time. This more 
complex object admits also of every variety and degree, from the lowest 
up to the highest conceivable fulness and freshness. This, of course, pro- 
vides for the possibility that the mind should, in its acts of recovery, go 
through all the intermediate steps of effort and intention, till the whole 
object, as objective and subjective, is fully represented and recognized. 
We may begin with some faint recognition of the object properly so- 



308 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §285. 

called, and of the mind's own previous state with respect to it. We are 
m some sense certain that we have known something of the object. It 
may be the names in order of the Sovereigns of Great Britain, or of the 
Presidents of the United States, the date of Magna Charta, or of the 
peace of Westphalia ; or it may be we have charged our minds with a 
number of acts to perform, as certain visits to make, or sundry commis- 
sions to execute, and we can recall all but one, or perhaps two. The sense 
of deficiency may be a rational or logical inference that we must have 
known these facts, or it may be an undefined certainty that something is 
wanting to complete the whole which we once apprehended, or it may be 
some more or less distinct recall and recognition of our own state when 
apprehending the object, now vaguely or totally unrecalled. 

In recovering; the whole, we may begin with that which is eminently obiec- 
Several ways of _ & „. . , ,.,.-, . . 

recovering the tive. We may set on with some object which we are sure, in our previous 

object sought k now i e( jg e> h a d gome relation to that which we seek — as the dates of some 

events that occurred before or after the one which we look for, the names 

which we have learned in connection with the one required ; and we may dwell upon these till 

the date or name required occurs to the mind, and we recognize it with welcome. Or we may 

begin with the subjective element. We may recall ourselves in the act of being charged with 

the commissions — where we were, what we were doing, of what we were thinking, how we were 

feeling, — till, by this means, the missing element reappears to make our recognition complete. 

§ 285. It has already been asserted, that in the intentional 
The active eic- me mory the active element is prominent. This is true. But 

inent prominent. •> ^ x 

it happens, from this very circumstance, that the passive ele- 
ment is thereby brought into more conspicuous and striking contrast. 
Indeed, it is often when we are straining our active energies to the utmost 
to recall, that the power of passive representation, or of spontaneous sug- 
gestion, seems to delight to make itself felt, and to assert its independent 
energy. It would seem to delight to tantalize us by the wantonness of its 
caprices, as now it flashes those very thoughts upon our mental vision 
which we are most desirous to hide out of sight, and then as provokingly 
hides those which we are most desirous to uncover. At one time we are 
disappointed by a strange and unaccountable forgetfulness of the most 
familiar objects ; at another, we are surprised by the appositeness and the 
affluence of unexpected thoughts. 

The sole and single function which the mind, as active, can exert, is to apply 
Must avail itself the force of its attention to the object or objects which it is certain have 

of the passive re f erence to that which is sought for. To these only have we access. These 
element. , _ . , , , . 

only we have at our command. Energetic and prolonged attention is all 

which the mind can do at the moment of remembering. It may, indeed, create, compare, 

infer, etc., and in these ways relieve and assist its attention ; but so far as any function proper 

to simple memory is concerned, it can do nothing more than to hold the object which is in part 

recovered hard home to the attention, and force the passive soul to represent more of the 

unknown. We say, this is all which it can do at the moment of remembering ; for in the origi. 



§287. REPRESENTATION. — THE MEMORY. 30? 

nal act of acquiring or observing, it can do very much toward securing the ready and 
spontaneous suggestion of the objects of its knowledge when they are required, and to facili« 
tate the activity of the mind in bringing them forth from their hiding-place. This brings us to 
another class of the facts and laws of the memory, viz., those which relate to the power of 

retention. 

§ 286. Memory is sometimes defined as exclusively the power 
Aj^ory as the ^o re tain, or the conservative faculty. So Hamilton treats it, 

oower to retain. ' . 

and exalts this supposed power into a separate faculty co- 
ordinate with the power to reproduce and the power to represent. The 
three are then made equal with the leading faculties of the intellect, as 
the powers to perceive, to reason, and to judge. But when we inquire for 
the definition or statement of the function which this so-called retentive 
faculty performs, we find that no function of the sort is known to con- 
sciousness. Indeed, it is conceded by Hamilton, that whatever is done by 
this faculty is performed unconsciously. We observe still further, that, so 
far as we are conscious or have reason to infer, there is no proper act or 
function at all which can be appropriately called the act or function of 
retention. What we mean when we speak of preserving or retaining an 
object in the memory, is that the object in question which has previously 
been known or thought of, can be represented again to the mind, either 
spontaneously or as the result of an effort, and can then be recognized. 

No one holds that, during the interval, the mind acts upon the object, or with respect to 
it. It does not exert itself to hold it, or concern itself with it in the least. The expression, 
to retain, is purely metaphorical, and simply carries the thoughts over the period that inter- 
venes between the moment when it was first apprehended, and the moment when it is known 
a second time. As Locke pertinently and truly observes, " This laying up of our ideas in the 
repository of the memory signifies no more but this, that the mind has a power, in many 
cases, to revive perceptions which it has once had, with this additional perception annexed to 
them, that it has had them before. And in this sense it is that our ideas are said to be in our 
memories, when, indeed, they are actually nowhere ; but only there is an ability in the mind, 
when it will, to revive them again," etc., (B. it c. x. § 2). 

§ 287. The whole of the so-called power to retain is provided and accounted 
The power to re- for under the head of the conditions and laws of representation. We need 
counted for. & °~ on ly assert here that the objects said to be retained are only metaphorically 
spoken of as preserved in some repository or hiding-place, in drawers, pigeon- 
holes, or other compartments. Nor can the doctrine be maintained, that in the act of original 
acquisition the fibres of the brain are disposed in a certain position, which they retain, or at 
least retain the tendency to reassume. Nor can it be proved, as the followers of Herbart con- 
tend, that each object as apprehended, or the state of mind as excited to action by the object, 
is retained ever afterward in a condition of tension, which, on a fit occasion, springs forth 
into the presence of the conscious spirit. Now, if all these representations are figurative or 
metaphorical, the power to retain, or the doctrine of a retentive facult* must be purely figu- 
rative also ; the fact which it describes being merely that under certairrconditions, and in obe- 
dience to certain laws, the mind can represent and recognize its previous knowledge. The 
mind that can do this in regard to the greatest number of objects, after the lapse of the long- 
est time, is said to have the most retentive memory. To preserve, or retain, respects both 
these points — the number of objects, and the interval of time which may have elapsed. 



310 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 289, 

Cicero (De Oratore, i. 5), Plato, and others, have compared the mind, in preserving -what 
Fio-urafTS Ian- it had known, to a tahlet on which characters were impressed or engraved. Notwithstand- 
euage cor.cern- ing the cautious and accurate definition of Locke which we have cited, we find him, in 
■ng the memory, the same chapter, indulging in such language as this : " The pictures drawn in our mind 

are laid in fading colors, and, if not sometimes refreshed, vanish and disappear." .... 
En some, it [the mind] retains the characters drawn on it like marhle ; in others like freestone ; and in others, 
little better than sand."' .... "We oftentimes find a disease quite strip the mind of all its ideas, and the 
flames of a fever in a few days calcine all those images to dust and confusion, which seemed to be as lasting 
as if graved in marble." Again, the ideas are, "very often roused and tumbled out of their dark cells into 
open daylight by some turbulent and tempestuous passion." Hamilton justly observes, " that of all these 
sensible resemblances, none is so ingenious as that of Gassendi to the folds of a piece of paper or cloth. * Con- 
cipi charta valeat plicarum innumerabilium, inconfusarumque, et juxta suos ordines, suas series, repeten- 
darum capax. Scilicet ubi unam seriem subtilissimarum induxerimus, superinducere licet alias, quae 
primam refringant transversum, et in omnem obliquitatem; sed ita tamen, ut, dum novae plicae, plicarumque 
series superinducuntur priores omnes non modo remaneant, verum etiam possint facili negotio excitari, 
redire, apparere, quatenus una plica arrepta, ceterae, quae in eadem serie quadam quasi sponte sequantur.' " 
Gassendi, Physica, sec. iii., lib. 8, ch. 3. But Hamilton does not notice wherein the truth and ingenuity of 
the resemblance mainly lies, viz., the circumstance that the mind, like the cloth, retains nothing but the 
capacity to assume the same folds and in the same combination and order which it had originally taken. 

8 288. We observe here, that as the goodness of the mem- 

The ready and ° . ,° 

the tenacious ory may respect it as spontaneous or intentional ; so we de- 
memory. ., . . , , t . , , 

scribe it in the one case as ready, and in the other as tena- 
cious. The one does not exclude the other. If a person is able to recall 
every object that is required at once, without effort or delay, his memory 
is called ready ; but it is not necessarily implied thereby that he is de- 
ficient in the capacity to retain, but only that he is quick and apt to recall. 
On the other hand, when one is slow to recall, and yet sure to do so by 
the application of an effort of attention if sufficient time is allowed, his 
memory is tenacious ; by which is intended only that the object is certain 
to be recovered — not that there is a special capacity to retain, which may 
be possessed in eminent measure, to which may or may not be added 
another special capacity to recall. 

It frequently happens, indeed, that a person may have a very ready memory, which is at 
the same time not tenacious ; that is, his memory may operate very quickly within a short 
time, and then forget altogther. It has also been observed, that the susceptible temperament 
and active nature which qualifies a person readily to recall whatever remembrances are within 
his possession, is usually not consistent with the exercise of those mental habits which are best 
adapted to fix remembrances the longest, nor of that patient attention which is sure to bring 
them back. Hence the inference, that a ready memory cannot also be tenacious. But the 
examples are very numerous, on the one hand, of persons in whom both these characteristics 
are most happily and wonderfully combined. To do full justice to these differences, we need 
to consider the varieties of memory (§ 296). 

§ 289. The power to retain, in the sense explained, implies 
Forgetfuiness. the power to lose, in the same sense ; the capacity to remem- 
ber, suggests that there is the liability to forget. The fact 
that we do forget, most men will not venture to question or deny. It is 
not, however, easy to explain why we forget, or to detail the process 
by which we lose an acquisition beyond recall. In one aspect of the case, 
it would seem .that we ought never to remember — that the mind might be 
supposed to be limited to the contemplation of the new objects which the 






§290. EEPRESENTATION. — THE MEMORY. 3.11 

preservative power can bring before it. But when we have become 
acquainted with the possibility and the conditions of representation, it 
would seem that we ought to forget nothing, but that it must always be 
within the reach of every related thought to bring back all its correlates. 
4 moment's reflection, however, must convince us that, were it possible 
for us to recall every object, the recall could not take place in fact, simply 
for want of time. To recall the acquisitions of a few years, would re- 
quire as long a time as to make the original acquirement, even if to repre- 
sent were our sole occupation ; to say nothing of the well-known fact that, 
to recall in detail under the conditions of association, is a slower process 
than to acquire under the conditions of sense and consciousness. But it is 
not solely for lack of time or opportunity that we do not recall. Often, when 
both are furnished, the related thoughts do not spontaneously present them- 
selves. Often they will not respond when we call them ever so earnestly. 

The phrase to forget is variously employed — sometimes positively, at others 
Degrees and va- comparatively ; now absolutely, and then relatively ; or, as Stiedenroth has 
fulness. ° rSG " i*> ' Forgetting admits of several degrees, or stadia. The first is a momen- 
tary displacement of an object apprehended which is yet certain to spring 
back as soon as the object displacing it is withdrawn. The second is a comparative with- 
drawal of the attention, as when we divert our mind from a painful sensation, or, as we say, 
forget it, in labor or play. The third is when an object will not present itself spontaneously, 
but we must bethink ourselves in order to recover it. The fourth is when we bethink our- 
selves in vain. The fifth is when it has vanished for so long a time that we question whether 
we can by any effort bring it back. The sixth, when we conclude that it is absolutely certain 
that we shall never recall it again ' {Psychologies Berlin, 1824, p. 82). 

§ 290. It is questioned by many whether this absolute for- 
Sinera^oSS? g et f umess is possible — whether, at least, we are authorized 

to affirm that the soul can lose beyond recovery any thing 
which it has known. It is certain that knowledge which has remained out 
of sight for a long period has often been suddenly recovered. In the 
excitement of sickness or delirium, in moments of terror or joy, events 
that had been long unthought of have thronged in upon the memory with 
the vividness of recent occurrences. A language that had been disused 
for years, and- supposed to be entirely forgotten, has come back to the- 
tongue when the powers were weakened by disease and seemed to be 
returning to the simplicity of second childhood. Prayers and hymns, the 
lessons of earliest infancy, though forgotten for all the life since, are re- 
peated at such times fluently and correctly. Even acquisitions that were 
the least likely to be remembered, and which, previously, were never known 
or suspected to have been made, come up as though the soul were inspired 
to receive strange revelations of its capacities and acquirements. 

Numerous examples of all these classes of facts have occurred within the 
of the recovery observation of the curious, and not a few are recorded in history. The well. 
toowledle** 611 known and often-quoted story, which was originally published by Coleridge 

in his Biographia Literaria, is in substance as follows : A servant-girl in 






312 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §291. 

Germany was very ill of nervous fever accompanied with violent delirium. In her excited 
ravings, she recited long passages from classical and rabbinical writers, which excited the won. 
der and even terror of all who heard them, the most of whom thought her inspired by a good 
or evil spirit. Some of the passages which were written down were found to correspond with 
literal extracts from learned books. When inquiries were made concerning the history of hei 
life, it was found that, several years before, she had lived in the family of an old and learned 
pastor in the country, who was in the habit of reading aloud favorite passages from the very 
writers in whose works these extracts were discovered. These sounds, to her unintelligible, 
were so distinctly impressed upon her memory, that, under the excitement of delirious fever, 
they were reproduced to her mind and uttered by her tongue. 

Kev. Timothy Flint, in his Recollections, records of himself, that when prostrate by malarious 
fever, he repeated aloud long passages from Virgil and Homer which he had never formally com- 
mitted to memory, and of which, both before and after his illness, he could repeat scarcely a line. 

Dr. Rush, in his Medical Inquiries, says that he once attended an Italian, who died m New 
York of yellow fever, who at first spoke English, at a later period of his illness French, and, 
when near his end, Italian only. He records also that he was informed by a Lutheran clergy- 
man, that old German immigrants whom he attended in their last illness, often prayed in then- 
native tongue, though some of them, he was certain, had not spoken it for many years. 

A favorite pupil of the writer, the son of a missionary in Syria, who had spent much of his 
life in this country, died of yellow fever, and spoke in Arabic — an almost forgotten language — 
during his last hours. 

Dr. Abercrombie tells us that a boy, at the age of four years, received an injury upon the 
head which made the operation of trepanning necessary. During the operation he was ap- 
parently in an unconscious stupor ; and after his recovery, it was never recalled to his recollec- 
tion, till he was fifteen years old, when, in a delirium occasioned by a fever, he gave to his 
mother a precise account of the whole transaction, describing the persons who were present, 
their dress, etc., etc., to the minutest particular. 

- 8 291. Facts like these illustrate the intimate connection of 

Dependence of « 

the t£ el b di y ^ e bodily condition with the phenomena of memory, of 
condition. which a partial explanation has already been given (§ 244). 

They confirm two positions, to which daily experience and observation 
both testify. The first is, that the extent and reach of our memory is 
.greatly affected by our bodily condition at the time when we acquire. 
Every object which we apprehend, when in a certain condition of health, 
we can afterward recall, and this we can do as readily and as easily as we 
breathe. All the impressions that are received by the soul when thus 
invigorated by healthful excitement, are spontaneously given back when 
required. On other occasions, when we are wearied by labor, exhausted 
by watching, or prostrated by pain, however earnestly we may desire to 
fix an object in the mind, we can with difficulty secure so as to hold the 
slightest fragment. The book which we read when in such a mood, the 
conversation in which we take part, the incidents which happen, become 
almost a blank to us when we seek to recover them. 

It is in place here to notice the circumstance, that certain parts of the day, 
?n Pe th^ en season and, with some persons, certain seasons of the year, are most favorable to the 
the da 6 timG ° f successful acquisition of possessions for the memory. In the evening, and 

especially late at night, the attention may seem to be as intently fixed upon 



§293. 



REPRESENTATION. THE MEMORY. 



313 



the objects which are to be retained, as in the morning, and the intellectual force may appeal 
to be more energetic. There is often, however, an accompanying over-excitement of tht 
nervous system, a fever of the brain, which either distracts the attention, or, if it seems to fh 
it for the instant with greater energy, hurries it so rapidly from one object to another, as not 
to allow that serene and continuous mental effort which is required for successful retention. 
Sometimes it happens that the acquisitions of the previous evening, which seemed to be so 
distinct and promised to be so permanent, have well-nigh vanished in the morning, and require 
to be reviewed to be made useful or sure. It is easy to see how, after the analogies furnished 
by these phenomena, can be explained the frequently evanescent character of the acquisitions 
which are made under the influence of wine or opium, as also the fact that the men of the 
strongest memories have often been either water-drinkers, or men of strong heads, not easily 
disturbed by stimulants. 

_ 8 292. The second position is, that, whether we can recall 

Dependence on o *- ' ' 

the bod^in^the wnat we mav ^e sa ^ to nave acquired, depends also very 
act of recalling, largely — at times altogether — upon the bodily condition at the 
moment of our desire or effort to remember. Under the inspiration of 
joyous health or the stimulus of exciting disease, all that we have ever 
experienced, witnessed, or learned, comes back to us as if a good genius 
were pouring forth at our bidding all that we need or desire to recall. 
Again, in seasons of extreme weakness, we cannot recover the most 
familiar names, incidents, or dates, and our most common knowledge 
refuses to serve us. Persons who have fallen from a height, or have but 
just escaped death by drowning, tell us of the wonderful activity of the 
memory during the brief period of consciousness — of the incredible num- 
ber of persons and events which they recalled, and the comprehensive sweep 
of the eye, by which, as at a glance, they revived the pictured memories 
of their life. 

It is pertinent here to refer to the many cases of the sudden and almost entire 
Sudden loss of loss of memory, some of which are as striking as those of its development to 
memory. unwonted energy. A lady of superior endowments and culture was for sev- 

eral days exposed to suffering and fear, in a storm at sea which terminated in 
the wreck of the vessel. A severe and protracted illness was the consequence, from which 
she slowly recovered. After her apparent restoration to complete health, it was found that the 
best part of her acquired knowledge was gone, and it was never afterward recovered. An 
attack of apoplexy has been said to efface all remembrance of the events of some definite 
period of the life. Sometimes paralysis greatly weakens the capacity to remember names and 
dates. Kev. William Tennent, a distinguished American clergyman, while preparing for col- 
lege, was taken sick, and was, for a time, supposed to be dead. During his recovery, it was 
found that he had lost all that he had previously learned, and even his memory of the alpha- 
bet. On a sudden he complained of a violent pain in the head, and instantly found himself 
restored to his normal condition, and the master of all that he had previously known. 



§ 293. Both classes of facts — those which illustrate the 
now these cases dependence on certain bodily conditions of both the power 

aio explained. - 1 j r 

to acquire with effect the materials for the memory, and the 
power to recover them with ease — can be accounted for by the general 
views already expressed. The varying condition of the body through the 



314 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §294. 

several sensations of which it is the occasion, enters into the experiences 
of consciousness, and furnishes a most important element in them all. It 
is the constant background on which all the mental activities are pro- 
jected, the never-failing setting with which every one of them must be 
accompanied. When these sensations are of a certain description, they are 
the normal and favoring accessories of the other actings of the soul ; helping, 
not hindering, the exertion of the higher energies, and presenting objects 
with which these are all happily united. If they are abnormal, disturbed, 
or unpleasant, the mind is so absorbed or distracted by the presence of 
these obtrusive sensations, that it has little energy to spare for other ob- 
jects, and no capacity to steady the attention upon them. In these ways we 
may suppose certain bodily states to be unfavorable to successful acquisition. 
Again, the bodily condition may also present sensations which so far 
disturb and distract the attention, as to allow no time for the passive meui 
ory to respond to any call ; may so hurry the mind from one object oJ 
present sense-experience to another, as to leave no opportunity for tiro 
representing power to thrust iu a single mental image ; or, on the other 
hand, these sensations may be so utterly dissimilar to any which have 
been before experienced, as to suggest no image of the past. Or again, 
this complex of sensations may be most favorable to the easy and almost 
exclusive action of the passive or spontaneous memory, and may be so 
akin to the states which we would recall, as to be all luminous and living 
with objects that suggest those which we welcome or seek after. In such 
cases, the body itself becomes an ethereal minister to the soul — almost 
an airy vehicle of spiritual life and energy. 

To the question, whether the circumstances of the soul can ever so far be 
May all knowl- changed as to empower it to recover all the past, the analogies suggested by 
ered? these facts would lead us to reply: (1.) Under no circumstances whatever 

can it be supposed that the soul shall recover what it has not in some sense 
made its own by the energetic action of its attentive consideration. That is not a proper 
object of memory to the soul, which has not been taken up into its life by its efficient acqui- 
sition. (2.) It is supposable that the conditions might be furnished of recalling all the past thus 
defined, under the actings of laws which are well known to us. We have only to suppose that a 
vehicle or subject of the proper psychical experiences — call them sensations, if you will, and the 
occasion of them a new body — should be furnished, and these would of themselves give bad*, 
every element of past acquisition or experience to which they are attached. 

8 294. With the progress and development of the powers 

Varieties of 

memory ; how and activities of the soul, the memory itself advances through 
separate stages, each of which prepares the way for that 
which follows, and occupies the place of its natural and logical condition. 
The memory of the infant differs from the memory of the child ; the mem- 
ory of the child differs from that of the youth ; the memory of the man, 
in each of the several stages of active life, differs from that in the stage 
which succeeds it. In general, the memory of the person in active life 



§296. EEPEESENTATION. THE MEMOEY. 315 

differs from the memory of old age. This must necessarily follow from 
the very nature of memory when considered as to the materials on which it 
works, and the laws by which it acts. The memory of an individual can 
rise no higher than the intellectual and emotional life which furnish the 
objects which it has to recall. It can take no other direction than that 
which is indicated by the relations and connections in which these objects 
are habitually combined. As these objects and relations stand to all men 
in a certain common order of preparation and evolution, there must con- 
sequently be a certain similarity in the order of the stages through which 
the memory of all is evolved. As there are also special classes of objects 
and relations that are proper to different classes of men, arising from their 
peculiar employments and habits of thinking and feeling, each of these 
classes has a memory that is peculiar to itself. The memory of the artist 
is very unlike the memory of the mathematician. The memory of the 
erudite and disciplined thinker differs greatly in its objects and its laws, 
from the memory of the person who has had little culture from reading or 
thought. Hence, there exist many clearly distinguishable varieties of 
memory, if we make nothing of the fact that every individual must have 
a type of memory which arises from those individual habits of thought 
and feeling which he can share with no other person. 

§ 295. The attention of the infant is at first occupied with the sensible 
memory. The world. It sees colors that delight the eye, it hears sounds that captivate the 
fency 17 ° f 1U " ear * * fc * s l° n o before it unites these separate percepts into individual 

objects, and still longer before it discriminates, by special attention, one 
object from another. Later still, it learns to notice with any effect its own inner experiences 
and activities. Then, it must learn distinctly to apprehend both object and activity as refer- 
able to itself as their agent and subject. It requires still more reflective attention before the 
mental activities and the mental objects are arranged as before and after, and the relations of 
time can be familiarly applied. The relations of here and there are of still later evolution. 
But all these separate elements must be familiarized by attention before an act of memory can 
be at all definite and complete, inasmuch as, whatever suggestions of representation there may 
be, there can be no proper act of memory till all these elements are recognized. 

Even when memory becomes possible to the infant, it is evident that the memory does 
not go beyond the attention, whether in respect to the objects which are recalled, or the mode 
in which they are viewed. The germinant memory of the infant must be exceedingly limited, 
because its materials are very scanty ; the chief force of its intellectual life being expended 
in acquiring rather than in recalling. So far as it remembers at all, its memory is passive, 
being completely directed and controlled by the persons and things which it encounters, and re- 
calling only the objects and feelings which their presence suggests. Intentional memory is as 
yet undeveloped, for the infant is the passive child of nature, the stream of its memory running 
eide by side with the course of its objective life. The infant remembers, as animals remember, 
just that, and only that, which the objects of sense-perception recall to their thoughts. It 
does not cut itself off from the objective world even by a reverie. It exercises only the 
lowest form of passive representation — that which depends entirely on the sense-perceptions. 

§ 296. The acquisition and use of language opens the way for the higher 

The memory of memory, though obviously in its first beginnings. The right use of words. 

childhood and , .„ , . , ,,.,,,,, 

youth. and of short sentences, requires that the child should connect names with 

distinctly discerned objects, and that it express its wishes and thoughts bj 



316 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 299 

short sentences. Both processes imply memory ; but so long as the object perceived, or th« 
thought recalled, suggests the word and sentence, the style and range of memory are limited 
and low. But by-and-by the child finds that it forgets — that it has not the knowledge which 
it once possessed. It cannot recall the right name or phrase which it wishes to use, and 
which it knows it has previously spoken. It is impelled by its wishes to recall the forgotten 
object, and begins to practise the arts of the intentional, or active memory. But these occa- 
sions and efforts are at best so infrequent, and of so little importance, that they train the 
intentional memory only to a slight degree. It is by tasks imposed by others directly and 
indirectly, that the soul is disciplined to the exercise of this higher memory, and that the 
power itself is developed. The child is taught written language. It learns the alphabet and 
spelling by the eye, or brief sentences and verses by the ear. To master these tasks, it must 
enforce its attention and employ repetition by continuous efforts, and for a longer time than 
has been its wont, upon objects which of themselves present few attractions and excite but 
little interest. By these efforts the capacity is developed to regulate and direct the spontaneous 
memory to special results — by fixing certain objects for recall, by concentrating the attention 
on certain objects to the exclusion of others, until they are placed at the service of the soul 
Children are charged also with commissions to execute, with services of labor or courtesy which 
may not be forgotten, and with endless lessons from books to prepare and repeat. 

§ 297. By degrees, this pupil of others becomes his own taskmaster: he 
Self-culture of P asses fro m the lower discipline of the memory, which others enforce, to the 
the memory. higher, which he imposes upon himself. The intentional memory, which has 

been trained by others, he cultivates for himself. He makes his own pur- 
poses ; he proposes his own ideals ; he knows what he must learn in order to accomplish 
these purposes and to realize these ideals' ; he appoints to himself his own lessons ; tasks his 
own intellect to consider, and his own efforts to retain what he foresees he shall have occasion 
to know and to have at command. He must be able to remember this or that, in order to gain 
a livelihood, to acquire wealth, to maintain a decent position in society, to attain success or 
eminence in his business or profession, to shine in conversation, to achieve reputation or use- 
fulness as a writer or speaker. These objects are desirable, and upon the attainment of one 
or more the purposes are fixed. Because the end is desired, the means are first tolerated and 
then loved, till the acquisition of the driest details and the most uninteresting particulars has 
become the habit of the man ; and the memory can be applied and directed to the possession 
of any species of knowledge which is necessary for its chosen purposes. In passing from 
childhood through youth to early manhood, every person is forced to become familiar with 
those objects and relations which have a necessary or intimate relation to his occupations and 
duties. According as this training of his attention is more or less complete, so does hia 
memory become more or less perfectly subject to his control, and from the passive spontaneity 
of early life passes into the active energy of mature years. 

§ 298. This memory of manhood is also characterized by the predominance 
The memory of of thought-relations and of rational purposes. The spontaneous memory of 
manhood. early life is not thereby displaced ; the original aptitudes of the memory of 

both eye and ear are not necessarily set aside. They may be rendered more 
efficient as they are aided by the new relations with which thought and reason invest their 
objects. But just so far as one thinks and acts like a man, just so far will he remember as a 
man, and not merely as a child — that is, by the aid of those higher relations which thought 
requires, and which definite aims and rational activities necessarily involve. The memory of 
the man is not only intentional, but it is also rational. 

§ 299. When the man advances from the busy noon toward the quiet 
The memory of evemn g °f lite, his exclusive interest in the objects which have absorbed hia 
old ag?w manhood is relaxed, either through physical infirmity, or the success which 

satiates, and perhaps the disappointment which wearies a man with life. Or 
it may be, that through the salutary discipline of experience, he reverts to the simpler tastea 



§301. EEPEESENTATION. THE MEMOEY. 317 

and the purer affections of earlier years, or looks forward to the higher objects which dawn 
upon him from the life beyond. The news, the markets, the politics, the literature, the 
society that occupied his attention so exclusively, are now less attended to, because they are 
less cared for. In place of an intent and absorbed devotedness to the present, there is a more 
frequent review of the past. Old scenes are described, old books are read, old companions are 
talked of, old stories are repeated. The best energies of the mind are given to these objects, 
while the mind scarcely heeds, or with enfeebled interest, the scenes, the persons, and events 
that are present. For this reason, recent objects are so readily forgotten, and the singulai 
contrast is furnished in the memory peculiar to the aged — most tenacious of objects and 
events that occurred longest ago, and readily forgetful, if forgetful at all, of those that were 
most recent. ^_ 

special and indi- § 3 ^ 0, Besides those varieties of memory which are com- 
viduai varieties mon ^ a ]]_ men m |h e successive periods of their life, there 

of memory. • r ' 

are the special peculiarities which result from one's pursuit 
or profession. The historian remembers facts and dates ; the philosopher, 
principles and laws. The artist remembers landscapes and faces ; the wit 
and the story-teller, never forget a successful jest or a capital anecdote. 
These habits of memory, as they are called, often grow stronger till they 
become fixed beyond the power of change. They often result in a one- 
sidedness of intellectual character that may be exaggerated into a serious 
and unnatural defect. Persons distinguished for great intellectual power 
in certain directions, very often complain of a serious defect of memory 
which they cannot account for. • Such one-sided habits and defects are not 
peculiar to the memory only, but pertain equally to all the activities of 
the soul. The condition of memory is energy in the original activities ; 
these involve attention to the objects to be remembered. Attention 
springs from an active interest in these objects. This prevailing interest 
follows the habits which constitute and express the character. 

The reason why, of the same story the historian remembers the facts and dates, the 
philosopher the principle or the moral, and the wit its humor, is that each is prepared, by 
his previous habits, to be intent upon and attent to a special class of objects. Each selects 
out of this common material the elements for which he has affinity, and, as by the force of an 
instinct, quietly appropriates this, and this only. He finds what he seeks, and seeks what he 
finds ; and what he seeks and finds, he retains and recalls. Man cannot be said to have a 
memory so much as to repeat in his memory the life which he actually lives. 

The growing feebleness or failure of memory, by which many are disturbed, is often only 
an indication of a change in the direction of the intellectual activities incident to the prog- 
ress of years, or to a change in one's pursuits or studies, or to a revolution in one's tastes and 
character. 

varieties of §301. We return again to the fact that these varieties of 
oTTbJcts^aSd memory are not only distinguished by the character of the 
their relations, objects remembered, but also by the method and relations 
under which they are recalled. The things which the child remembers 
not only differ from those which an older person recalls, but they are 
recalled in a child's order, and by the relations which are proper to a 
child. The same is true of the devotee to any study or pursuit so far aa 



318 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §302. 

special intellectual habits are induced by such a study or employment. 
When the child recalls to itself or recites to others a series of incidents 
of which it has had experience, it depicts the whole, generally in the order 
of time, with little selection of materials according to their importance 
or their relation to any principle or purpose. The spontaneous memory 
of the eye or the ear, reproduces the past solely after the relations of time 
or place, with no rearrangement or selection of the same such as would 
be suggested by the desire for the clearer apprehension of the' hearer, 
or by the bearings of the story upon his intellect or his feelings. 

This is very conspicuous in the memory, and especially in the narratives of 
the tmd^ci^in- uneducated persons. Thus, Dame Quickly recites the story of her wrongs in 
ed miud. the following fashion : " Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, 

sitting in my dolphin chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon 
Wednesday in Whitsun-week, when the prince broke thy head for liking his father to a 
singing-man of "Windsor ; thou didst swear to me then, as I was washing thy wound, to marry 
me, and make me my lady thy wife " (Henry IV., 2d part, Act ii. scene i. ; cf. S. T. Coleridge, 
TJie Friend, Sec. ii. Essay iv.) No finer opportunity is furnished for observing this variety in the 
order and method which characterize the memory of different persons, than in listening to the 
testimony of different witnesses in a court of justice, concerning the same transaction. One 
witness tells a long and rambling story, which follows the order of his own observations in 
time, and recites the most trifling accompaniments of place and circumstances. Another 
recounts those only which are material to the object for which he gives testimony. In each, can 
be observed an order of association peculiar to himself, by which the circumstances suggest 
one another, and according to which the details are presented. The laws which prevail in the 
memory of each, the presence of the higher or the predominance of the lower relations, are 
often in this way strikingly illustrated. The self-possession of the narrator, and his previous 
discipline in the art of communication, may have much to do with the method in which the 
stories are told ; but the mechanical or the rational memory will show themselves, and cannot 
be kept out of view by any arts of speech or force of effrontery. 

The memory of § 302> Tne ™ e ™o*Y of tne J°^ m g is usually more ready ; 
of e oide°r Un ?rson? *^at of the adult is more tenacious. This is, in part, owing 
to the greater physical vivacity of youth, which gives a 
character of greater readiness to all its movements. The vivacious old 
man is as quick to remember as he is to apprehend or judge ; while the 
torpid and phlegmatic child is as slow in his memory he is as in his 
reasonings and inferences. The difference, however, is not a difference 
of temperament or animal spirits, but has its ground in the character 
of the relations which predominate at each of these periods of life, and 
which affect the memory as truly as the other functions of the intellect. 
Objects that are recalled by the relations of space and time and of obvi- 
ous resemblance, present themselves promptly, if they are remembered at 
all ; but these relations are, from their very nature, limited to but few 
individual objects. Hence, the groups which are connected by such 
relations are sooner set aside and forgotten, and are, in their turn, dis- 
placed by others. The relations of thought, however, especially those 
which are founded on wide-reaching principles or laws, are in their very 



§304. REPRESENTATION. — THE MEMORY. 319 

nature less obvious. As the mind requires longer time to discern such 
relations, so it does not recall single objects as readily as by those rela- 
tions which are less general. But, on the other hand, the principles them- 
selves are few, and are constantly before the mind. When these are once 
mastered, they are illustrated in every fact ; they are exemplified in every 
instance. By means of them we can prophesy and construct the future 
as well as explain and interpret the past. These few bonds of association, 
when they control the memory, give to it perfect security in and command 
over its possessions. 

It is a beneficent arrangement which provides that the spontaneous and inferior memory, 
which is first developed in childhood and youth, should be more quick in its activities, so as 
to be readily adjusted to new scenes and new objects, and yet less tenacious, because so much 
which it acquires has only a temporary value and application. There is a reason why the higher 
memory should be more circumspect and slow, inasmuch as it suits the occasions of life which 
imply quiet and deliberate thought, while, at the same time, it is more tenacious, because it 
concerns itself with principles and relations, which can never cease to be interesting and use- 
ful — which can never be displaced, and can never be exhausted. 

The men of uni- § 303. The men of universal memory are those who com- 
NUbuhTand bine most happily the ready memory of facts and events 
with, the tenacious memory of truths and laws. They are 
those whose spontaneous memory is not displaced, but rather aided by the 
development of the rational memory which sees in facts the illustrations 
of the higher relations of philosophic truth. They are those who enliven 
abstract truths by the examples of particular facts, and who give meaning 
and dignity to the memory of facts by means of their relations to prin- 
ciples. They are those who hold fast the acquisitions of youth and of old 
age by the permanence of principles which are as old as the universe and 
as new as the latest experiment by which they are verified. 

Of the memory of Niebuhr, Prof. C. A. Brandis, of the University of Bonn, who was his intimate 
friend, gives the following description ; "A more comprehensive and trustworthy memory, or greater con- 
trol over it, can scarcely have been possessed by Joseph Scaliger, and other heroes of mnemonics ; it cer- 
tainly was never combined with clearer powers of reflection. Niebuhr was a close observer, and found 
some connecting link between all the manifold external and internal perceptions which came before him ; 
hence he mastered languages and sciences, signs and the things signified, with equal ease and with such 
certainty, that with the mind's eye he saw each in its own individuality, separate from its fellows, and yet 

intimately and variously related to them It [his memory] was equally retentive of perceptions and 

thoughts, of views and feelings, of sights and sounds ; whatever came within the sphere of his recognition, 
took up its due relative position in hia mind with equal certainty and precision." {The Life and Letters 
of Barthold George Niebuhr, etc., etc., Appendix.) 

'"Tis reported of that prodigy of parts, Monsieur Pascal, that, till the decay of his health had impaired 
his memory, he forgot nothing of what he had done, read, or thought in any part of his rational age." 
(Locke, Essay, B. ii. c. x. § 9.) 

§ 304. The memory of the ancients, if we may believe all the stories which 
The memory of are told of the achievements of some of their more distinguished men, sur- 
the ancients. passed, in some respects, the average attainments of the moderns. It is not 

difficult to believe this to have been true, from what we know of the mem- 
ory of those who most resemble them in the circumstances of their lives, and the discipline of 
their intellects. Their attention was far less distracted by a variety of objects than is the 



320 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §306. 

case with the moderns. The facts in science, literature, chronology, and history, which thej 
were required to remember were far fewer than those which burden the memory of the modern 
scholar. More than all, they relied far less than we do upon Writing, memoranda, and books, 
to preserve what they desired to retain. They committed their acquisitions to their own 
power to recall them. Conversation and repetition were practised far more generally by them 
than by us. What was heard by the ear from the living teacher, was repeated and discoursed 
of by his interested scholars, till it became a part of their very being. The oft-repeated chroni- 
cle which the patriarch recited to his reverent descendants, was caught and recounted at once 
by his hearers. The ode or epic that was chanted by the bard before the entranced assembly, 
was sung over again, in parts or as a whole, as soon as he finished it. His exciting words rung 
in their ears till they were uttered by their tongues. We can hardly conceive of the strength 
and reach of memory in a community in which conversation took the place of writing, and 
recitation performed the service of the printing-press, especially if the community consisted of 
men of powerful intellects, intense feelings, and energetic wills. 

§ 305. The methods of education should be conducted with a distinct recog- 
ory should bere- n ^ on °f tne w * se arrangements of nature in developing and maturing 
garded in educa- the memory. In the earlier periods of life the spontaneous memory should 

be stimulated and enriched by appropriate studies. The child should learn 
stories, verses, poems, facts, and dates, as freely and as accurately as it can be made to respond 
to such tasks. During this early and objective period, it should learn as many languages as 
is possible in the circumstances, or as is desirable for its future pursuits. Especially should it 
learn those languages which can be taught in conversation, or acquired by contact with those 
who speak them freely and well. If the elements of the ancient languages are taught so early 
in life, they should be taught, so far as in the nature of the case is possible, by similar methods. 
But as the higher and rational powers awake to action, every acquisition that has been made 
after the lower and more obvious relations, should be secured against loss by recasting it and 
relearning it as it were, after the relations which are higher and more philosophical. English 
children who learn to speak French, German, or Italian fluently in early life, may lose their 
acquisitions almost entirely, unless these are fixed by a grammatical study of these very 
languages at a somewhat later period. The large accumulations of facts and dates, as in 
geography and history, which are made very early by many carefully-trained children, and 
with the greatest ease on their part, are liable to be effaced, and, as it were, swept clean out 
from the memory, unless they are secured against loss by reviewing and rearranging them 
under the new and higher relations which the development of the reason makes possible. 

On the other hand, to anticipate the development of the reflecting powers, by forcing upon the intel- 
lect studies which imply and require these capacities, is to commit the double error of misusing the time 
which is especially appropriate to simple acquisition, and of constraining the intellect to efforts which are 
untimely and unnatural. The modern practice of occupying the minds of children with the reasons of 
things, i. c, with laws, principles, etc., in the forms of compends of astronomy, of natural or mental 
philosophy, natural theology, etc.— is one that cannot be too earnestly deprecated, or too soon abandoned 
by those who would train the mind according to the methods of nature, or adapt its studies and pursuits to 
the order in which its powers and functions were intended to be evolved (cf. § 61). 

How can the § 306, *^ ne cultivation of the memory is a subject which 
Svatedl be cul " nas been earnestly discussed by many writers, and is of 
practical interest to all those who are bent on self-improve- 
ment, or are devoted to the education of others. Many complain of a 
general defect of memory. Others are especially sensible of painful 
failures in respect to certain classes of objects, as names, dates, facts of 
history, sentences or passages from authors familiarly read. The question 



§ 306. " REPRESENTATION. THE MEMOET. 321 

is often anxiously propounded, How can these general or special defects 
be overcome ? 

The conclusions which we have reached in respect to the 

Fundamental -i i • -i -i 

principles and nature and laws oi memory, suggest the only practical rules 
which can be attained. These rules may be summed up in 
the following comprehensive directions : ' To remember any thing, you 
must attend to it ; and in order to attend, you must either find or create 
an interest in the objects to be attended to. This interest must, if pos- 
sible, be felt in the objects themselves, as directly related to your own 
wishes, feelings, and purposes, and not to some remote end on account of 
which you desire to make the acquisition.' For this reason, in entering 
upon a new study or course of reading, it is often essential to feel that 
the knowledge which they will give is necessary for ourselves, so that we 
may be eager to satisfy our minds upon the points which are involved, and 
may receive what is furnished, with freshness and zest. It should never be 
forgotten, that in memory, what is reproduced is not the object as such, 
or the object in itself, but the object as apprehended and reacted on by the 
soul. In other words, the soul can recall no more than it makes its own — 
no more than, in acquiring, it constructs or creates as a spiritual product 
by its own activity. 

Even the extraordinary feats of the spontaneous memory are chiefly to be accounted for 
by the fact that the soul can give its whole energy to words or sounds, as in the memory of 
the ear, and to forms and colors, as in that of the eye, and can shape them into wholes by 
rapid combination under the relations of time or space. Defects in the power to do either, 
whether it is viewed as an original endowment, or as a habit acquired in the very earliest periods 
of life, lie chiefly in an incapacity to attend to and connect together sounds or sightSi 
Whether it is because the soul is deficient in general energy, or in special sensibility of the 
sentient eye or ear, or whether because it has early contracted some untimely habit of 
absent-mindedness or abstraction, which withdraws its energy from the objects of sense and 
their relations, it is a simple fact, that the man does not remember because he does not attend 
to, and by his attention, connect the right objects under these simplest relations. It may be im, 
possible completely to overcome such a defect as this by any art or discipline. Repetition is 
the specific remedy, because it holds the attention and draws in the wandering and often the 
wool-gathering intellect from its aimless rovings. This must be enforced with unsparing rigor. 
4 Read every sentence while holding your breath,' says a lively writer ; meaning, by this, Throw 
your whole soul into every act. If he had added, Pause when you have finished it, and take 
another breath while you review it, he would have explained the whole secret of successful 
and permanent acquisition of every kind, whether of facts or their relations. "Were this rule 
invariably followed, the mind would act with energy in all that it does, and would also be 
detained in every act long enough to receive permanent impressions, whether in the way of 
facts or relations. Whatever objects are thus taken up into the mind — or perhaps we should 
say, to whatever objects the mind imparts its own living power — cannot easily be forgotten. 

The late Sir Thomas Powell Buxton advises his sons in the following golden words-: " What you do 
know, know thoroughly. There are few instances in modern times of a rise equal to that of Sir Edward 
Sugden. After one of tho Weymouth elections, I was shut up with him in a carriage for twenty-foux 
hours. I ventured to ask him, What was the secret of his success; his answer was : 'I resolved, when 
beginning to read law, to make every thing I acquired perfectly my own, and never to.go to a socon 1 Uiing. 

21 



322 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 307. 

till I had entirely accomplished the first. Many of my competitors read as much in a day as I read in a 
week ; but, at the end of twelve months, my knowledge was as fresh as on the day it was acquired, whilo 
theirs had glided away from their recollection.' " (Memoirs of Sir Thomas F. Buxton, chap, xxiv.) 

§ 307. Numerous devices have been contrived in order to aid the mind so 
^JormnS" to make its aC( l u i sitions as to secure them against loss, and to bring them 
Ics. readily to hand when required. They were not unknown to the ancients, as 

is evident from Cicero, De Or. ii. 86-88 ; Ad Herenn. iii. 16-24 ; Quiuct. 
Instit. x. 1, 11-26. They all rest upon a common assumption or principle, viz., that it is 
possible, by means of arbitrary associations, so to connect what one desires to remember with 
a series or scheme of objects, artificially arranged or actually existing, that they can be readily 
and certainly suggested to the mind. Some teachers of mnemonics employ a scheme of geo- 
metrical figures, as squares or triangles. For examp»e : if a person, in listening to a discourse 
or lecture, should, as the speaker proceeds, connect the leading thoughts or divisions with the 
panes of glass in a window-sash, or the panels of a door, he would avail himself of the geometrical 
method, which addresses the eye, through the space-relations of visible objects. Often these 
systems have sought to aid the memory of dates, through the letters of the alphabet ; each 
representing some number, and being capable of forming artificial syllables, which can be 
readily attached to names of persons or places distinguished in history. For example : you 
could fix in your memory the date of Napoleon's birth by such appropriate syllables indicating 
the birth and the date together as should form the artificial word NapoleomVam. To the 
use of such an expedient it is objected, that, though it might serve in the few cases in which 
novelty should lend interest to the effort and the subject-matter, yet the task of modifying 
every name and event, and then learning the barbarous terms thus formed, would necessarily 
become uninteresting and onerous. To avoid this objection, mnemonic verses and tables have 
been furnished for many of the important objects with which every student is expected to be 
familiar, as the names of the sovereigns of the great kingdoms and empires, grammatical 
paradigms and rules, logical formulae, etc., etc. 

A correct estimate of the value of all artificial memory may be summed up 
Value of mne- as follows : The natural, as opposed to the artificial memory, depends on the 
monies. relations of sense and the relations of thought ; the spontaneous memory of 

the eye and the ear availing itself of the obvious conjunctions of objects 
which are furnished by space and time, and the rational memory, of those higher combinations 
which the rational faculties superinduce upon these lower. So far as the mind is intensified 
in the energy of its attention, through the interest which the consideration of either of these 
classes of relations excites, so far is the natural memory susceptible of cultivation and im- 
provement. The artificial memory proposes to substitute for the natural and necessary rela- 
tions under which all objects must present and arrange themselves, an entirely new set of 
relations that are purely arbitrary and mechanical, which are devised for no other object, and 
excite little or no other interest than that they are to aid us in remembering. 

It follows that, if the mind tasks itself to the special effort of considering 
Ob' cti ns to 0D J ects under these artificial relations, it will give less attention to those which 
mhemonias. have a direct and legitimate interest for itself. Its energies, instead of following 

in easy obedience the leadings of nature, will be forced to exertions that are 
constrained and artificial. Whatever dexterity is acquired by these intellectual gymnastics, 
must be gained at the expense of that rhythmical power which always rewards those exertions 
in which art follows nature. The wonderful feats of memory which are occasionally adduced 
as resulting from the latest new device in mnemonics, are the fruits of much time, labor, and 
enthusiasm. Had the same time, labor, and enthusiasm been expended in acquiring knowl- 
edge by means of the ordinary appliances,-the acquisitions would have been many times more 
valuable for the culture of the powers and the uses of life. Perhaps even the number of facts 
recorded in the memory would have been as numerous. 



g 308. REPRESENTATION. THE MEMORY. 323 

There are occasions when the artificial memory is unquestionably useful. It 
Wh • th ma y serve a & 00< * purpose in holding before the mind facts which it is im- 
aseful?' portant to remember when neither the facts themselves, nor their relation^ 

present attractions which are strong enough to fix or hold the attention. 
Thus, it is often convenient and sometimes necessary to learn a list of names, a succession 
of dates, a system of nomenclature, and the declensions, genders, paradigms, etc., of the worda 
of a strange language. To the child, such tasks imply no special difficulty ; the spontaneous 
memory of the eye and the ear can master them as easily under one set of relations as 
another. But for the man whose intellectual force and interest are preoccupied, it is often 
difficult to apply the memory with success to such objects, unless they are arranged in some 
novel relations. The artificial memory comes to his aid, and offers the service and assistance 
of art to supplement the failing forces of nature ; to reenforce, and, as it were, to renew the 
spontaneous memory by novel appliances. 

One of the most ingenious and successful examples of the application of artificial memory. 
General Bern's ^ 3 furnished in the plan for studying history and chronology, which was devised by thb 
Historical Mne- distinguished Polish General Bern, and adopted in the secondary schools of France. It 
monies. h as a i so received some favor in this country. Its professed design is to hold the mind 

of the learner in active occupation upon each leading event, name, date, etc., so long 
that it -will not be easy to forget it. He is also compelled to view each in its relative order and impor- 
tance. These objects are accomplished by means of a series of skeleton charts, the several divisions of 
which are colored by the pupil himself, after the large chart from which the teacher dictates and lectures ; 
each lecture being afterwards recited by the pupil. A thorough course of historical studies pursued after 
this method must require much time, frequent repetition, and almost exclusive attention. (Cf. E. P. Pea- 
body. Universal History arranged to illustrate Bern's Chart of Chronology, Chap, vii.) 

§ 308. But while we concede a certain advantage to the 

of°memory. ar ' artificial memory under circumstances like these, we must 

still hold, with Coleridge (JBiog. Literaria, chap, vii.), that, 

for the ordinary uses of the student, sound logic, a healthy digestion, and a 

quiet conscience are the proper conditions or arts of memory. 

By sound logic, is, of course, intended a well-balanced and well- 
trained intellect, which by original structure and that self-mastery which 
training imparts and implies, is capable of fixed attention, clear apprehen- 
sion, and excited interest. Without these conditions, a strong and trust- 
worthy memory is impossible. 

A healthy digestion is also requisite ; for if the digestion is disturbed, 
the action of the mind will be distracted by those vague sensations of 
depression and discomfort which are inconsistent with that harmonious 
interaction of the powers of the whole man, which is indispensable to a 
good memory. Even though it happens that persons in this condition are 
capable of extraordinary energy in their mental efforts, yet these occasions 
are certain to be followed by longer periods of listlessness and depression 
which exclude that frequent and comfortable repetition and review of the 
knowledge which are quite as essential as energy and interest at the time 
of the original acquisition. It is in place here to refer again to the dis- 
turbing influence upon the memory of the use of opium and intoxicating 
liquors. Both these agents, and all narcotics and stimulants in excess, dis- 
turb the normal condition of the sensorium, so as to preclude the steady 



324 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §309 

attention, the cool and calm judgment, and the quiet reflection which are 
essential to a well-working memory. 

A clear or quiet conscience is also a prime requisite, for a similar 
reason. Indigestion and intoxication of any kind disturb the memory, by 
intrusive, uncomfortable and exciting sensations. But the consciousness 
of guilt haunts the spirit with disquieting self-reproach, and a vague 01 
defined fear of deserved punishment. Feelings of this sort do indeed 
often stamp upon the memory certain impressions that are ineffaceable. 
But for this very reason it is the more unfitted to attend with interest or 
enthusiasm to other objects, and its movements in all directions are be- 
numbed or depressed by distraction or constraint. 

The entire passage from Coleridge is a summary of valuable truth. " Sound logic, as the habitua 
subordination of the individual to tbe species, and of the species to the genus ; a philosophical knowledge 
of facts under the relation of cause and effect ; a cheerful and communicative temper, that disposes us to 
notice the similarities and contrasts of things, tbat we may be able to illustrate the one by the other ; a 
quiet conscience, a condition free from anxieties ; sound health, and above all (as far as relates to passive 
remembrance), a healthy digestion ; these are the best— these are the only arts of memory." (Biog. 
Lileraria, chap, vii.) 

The moral eie- § 3( ^* ^ * s na ^ral, in this connection, to notice the moral 
ments of a good conditions of a good memory. The man who would have a 
strong and trustworthy memory, must always be true to it 
in his dealings with himself and with other men. He must paint to his own 
imagination, with scrupulous fidelity, whatever he has witnessed or expe- 
rienced. He must never so yield to the bias of interest or passion, as to 
strive to persuade himself, even for a moment, that events were different 
from what he knows they actually were. He must seek to repeat to others 
the precise words of what he has heard or read, whenever he makes com- 
munications by language. Such a moral discipline to internal and external 
honesty, both implies and enforces a mental discipline to earnest and wide- 
reaching attention—an attention which does complete justice to every 
object that comes before it, and which neither slights nor omits any thing 
which ought to be brought to view. An intellect that is regulated and 
neld to its duties by the tension of such a purpose, will act with the pre- 
cision and certainty of clock-work. Its recollections will be trusted by 
others, because they are trusted by the person himself, and for the best of 
reasons — because he is true to what he remembers. 

On the other hand, a person who is false to his fellow-men, will often weaken his 
a"°d W ^confound confidence in his own intellect, and may end with an incapacity to distinguish 
the memory. falsehood from the truth. What he does not like to remember, he will per- 

suade himself did not actually happen, or, at least, not in every particular as 
it spontaneously presents itself to his view. At first he dares not deal falsely with the record 
by wilful denial. He simply refrains from giving to it an open-eyed and fixed attention, and by 
degrees allows in himself careless and inattentive habits of recalling the whole truth. Then fol- 
lows, by natural consequence, distrust of his own memory, because he is not sure that the 
materials are at hand with which he can correct his own omissions. The next step is, under 
jje excitement of strong passion, to persuade himself that what he desires should be truej did 



§310. REPRESENTATION. — THE PHANTASY. 325 

really occur, or was really written or said. If he asserts this by his own word, he is the more 
strongly committed to believe it. At last, he becomes so false to the workings of his own 
memory, that he dares not trust it himself. Under the constant excitements of passion and 
prevailing selfishness, his memory and imagination are confounded together, so that the man 
himself cannot trace the line which divides the two. The appropriate functions of the mem- 
ory come to be distrusted, and the memory itself is almost obliterated. 

It is well to remember, that, while the liar has more pressing need of a good memory than 
any other man, he is of all men the least likely to possess it. 



CHAPTER V. 

REPRESENTATION. (2) THE PHANTASY, OR IMAGING POWER. 

From perfect memory, we pass (§ 274) through the several forms and degrees of imperfect 
memory till we come to the phantasy. In other words, from representation with recog- 
nition, we proceed to representation without recognition. The phantasy is conspicuous 
in reverie, dreaming, somnambulism, and insanity. In all these varied forms of mani- 
festation, it presents some of the most difficult as well as the most interesting problems 
for the student of the soul and the intellect of man. 

Phantasy de- § 31 °- The phantasy, or imaging power, is that form of 
Sated and iUus " re P resen tation which brings before the mind's apprehension 

objects, or, more exactly, images, as such, severed from all 
relations of place, time, or previous cognition. The best example of the 
exercise of this power is furnished in dreaming. In this state, the mind 
is the passive subject and observer of the images that throng in upon it, 
with no recognition of their having been previously known. In what are 
called the abnormal or disordered states of the soul — as somnambulism, 
and the various types and degrees of insanity — the phantasy has a more 
or less complete control. Its images and pictures are so far from being 
remembered as past, that they are believed to be present realities. 

Among the wakeful and normal states of the soul, reverie is 
cyT'oid aS fan " tne P ures * an( l the most perfect instance of phantasy. In 

this condition, the workings of the phantasy are more or 
less pure, according as the mind is more or less completely given up to 
the passive contemplation of the pictures that pass rapidly before its view. 
The fewer the relations to the past or the present which they suggest, the 
more complete is the working of the phantasy. The more free it is from 
any attendant sense-perceptions or from any remembrances to which these 
pictures tend, or from any operations of thought, the more entire is the 
dominion of simple phantasy. In earliest infancy this power may be sup- 
posed to be active, for the reason that the mind has not yet reached a 
condition in which memory proper is possible. As soon, however, as the 
mind has perceived distinct and separate objects, it has materials which it 



326 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §311. 

can represent simply as pictures, even before it has perceived them 
under those relations of place, time, and its own experience which are 
essential to memory. In extreme old age also, when the incapacity to 
attend to single objects for a long continuance precludes intelligent and 
effective perception, memory, or thought, the phantasy may still survive, 
aud actively call up the pictures of the past, simply as pictures, each 
recalling the next, according to the conditions and laws already explained. 

In the wakeful and earnest periods of the mind's activity, the exercise of 
Why phantasy 

infrequent, simple phantasy is precluded, for the obvious reason, that at such times the 
Trains of associa- m j n( j j s m t e nt upon some rational object, which lifts it above the condition 

of the passive recipience or contemplation of pictures. What would other- 
wise be pictures only, become remembrances ; or they are shaped by imagination into orderly 
and rational creations, for the ends of amusement and instruction ; or they are subjected to 
the uses of thought in classification, reasoning, invention, and discovery. And yet, with such 
activities, there are not infrequently mingled those approaching to pure phantasy. When one 
object suggests another in a train of associations, many may be recalled without a single dis- 
tinct act of remembrance, and yet every one may be a transcript from some reality experienced 
in the past. Each is recalled, however, not as a remembered or recognized object, but as an 
image of simple phantasy. Indeed, in every such train of rapid association through which 
the mind proceeds in its eager quest of some object or end earnestly sought for, innumerable 
such pictures must present themselves in rapid succession. Whatever the mind may have 
permanently acquired — as a face, a landscape, a taste, a sound, the voice or step of a friend, 
a musical air — may come back as a phantasm, or image. Of many of these objects it is true, 
that if the mind dwells upon them, they may be remembered as well as pictured ; but if they 
simply flit before the eye of the mind, each suggesting the other, their presentation and obser- 
vation is the work of the phantasy alone. This power is exercised far more frequently than 
we notice, for the reason that it is mingled with the exercise of the higher powers, while these 
last, and their results, occupy our chief energy and attention. 

8 311. When the higher functions of the soul are whollv, 

Painting. Sleep. ° . ■ ° .-„..„. 

Distraction. or m part, put in abeyance, as m iamting, fatigue, or sleep, 
or when there is bodily weakness, or any disturbance of the 
nervous equilibrium, as in fever, delirium, or excitement from liquor or 
narcotics, or even in protracted sleeplessness, the phantasy asserts a more 
or less complete dominion. The mind is visited with throngs of pictures, 
which rush so rapidly by as to confuse it by their very swiftness, and to 
oppress it by a sense of its own impotence to arrest or direct then- 
course. When this condition is permanent, the mind is said to be the 
victim of phantasy. Such a state is called also a state of distraction — 
which term describes the mind's incapacity to fix the attention or detain 
these flying images long enough to allow the exercise of the functions 
of rational memory, invention, or thought. 

These higher and rational functions are often in part suspended, and phantasy has a tem- 
porary mastery. At such times it presents pictures of persons or events that have been im- 
pressed upon the attention by the energy of strong emotion. A paroxysm of fear will stamp 
an image so ineffaceably upon the phantasy, that it will ever afterwards be held ready to start 
forth from any object of perception or memory that even remotely suggests it. The mothei 



§312. REPRESENTATION. THE PHANTASY. 32 1 

is ever beholding with the eye of the mind the image of her child that is forever lost. The 
perpetrator of crime is haunted by the faces of those whom he has murdered or grievously 
wronged, both when he does and when he does not connect them with any past scenes or acta 
observed or performed by himself. 

Three supposi- § 312. These conditions of the soul are grave problems to 
the" 8 states ° i°n the psychologist. They suggest questions which his science 
must attempt to answer. Three suppositions may be made 
in respect to them: (1.) These states may be said to be simply abnormal 
or irregular, recognizing and obeying no law. (2.) They may be set down 
as simply inexplicable, suggesting the existence of laws which cannot be 
discovered. (3.) They may be explained in great part by the usually 
recognized laws of the soul in its normal and wakeful condition. Of 
these suppositions, we affirm the last. To affirm the second, were to con- 
fess ignorance. To do this, if it is necessary, is to be honest and wise ; 
but not unless we are compelled by necessity. Present ignorance should 
arouse us to the effort of explanation. To affirm the first, were to deny 
one of our primal beliefs, and to oppose one of our original and strongest 
tendencies. The probability is, then, immensely in favor of the last. If 
the laws which govern the recurrence and representation of ideas have 
been fully and correctly set forth, they ought to explain the phenomena 
of the sleeping and disordered conditions of the soul. That they do so, 
is probable for the following reasons : 

The power of I- The power of association operates very efficiently in these 
operatiYe 71 in conditions. In dreaming, somnambulism, insanity, etc., etc., 
them an. ^ g p resence an d powers are often most apparent. Whatever 

else is strange and inexplicable in these phenomena, nothing is more clear 
or better established, than that the threads of association can often be dis- 
tinctly traced in them. When we ask ourselves, Why did it happen that 
I had such or such a dream ? or, How did it happen that this thought or 
that occurred to me perhaps under a strange disguise ? it is often very 
easy to answer by a reference to the usually recognized laws of association. 
The strange and unexpected sallies of the insane, however wild and pre- 
posterous they may be, follow some law of association, though it often leads 
to the most fantastic result. There is always some method in their mad- 
ness. Given the impression of some conception or fancy, and it will draw a 
score or hundred others with it by a rational and orderly suggestion. 
Deviations ac- H- The deviations from the ordinary working of these laws 
By Changes ^in can a ^ S0 ' to some extent, be satisfactorily accounted for. 
portio e i at of P the ( L ) Tne P°wers of the soul ordinarily act in a certain 

powers. conjunction with and proportion to one another. It is not 

surprising, that, when a single power acts alone, the phenomena should 
differ very greatly from those which result from the combined activity of 
the rest. In the cases supposed, self-consciousness, rational activity, and the 
voluntary control of the bodily movements and the mental states, are all 



328 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §313 

set aside ; and the associative power asserts, to a very large extent, the 
possession of the soul. We ought not to be surprised, that a power 
ordinarily acting in connection with the wakeful reason and under its 
control, should manifest results unlike those which appear when these 
regulating elements are present. That the images suggested should differ 
from those suggested by the same exciting causes under other circum- 
stances — that images should even be taken for real existences — that, being 
believed to be realities, they should suggest images differing from those 
which they would excite when known to be images only, that the activity 
of the mind, in this isolated and unruled form, should seem to be more 
rapid than in its waking and rational states, are phenomena which should 
occasion no great surprise. We have, by the supposition, an unquestioned 
fact — the associative power acting, to a great degree, independently of 
the other powers. It ought to be expected that its results, and the modes 
of its operation, should vary from those which attend it when working 
conjointly with the rest. 

(2.) Certain bodily states are known greatly to modify the 
Sliiy states. tbe actings of the soul, when the soul is wakeful and in health. 
It is according to the law of its being, that its action should 
be modified still more when the bodily affections become more efficient 
and obtrusive. Whether the vital and psychical principles are or are not 
the same, no fact is more obvious than that the action of the soul is con- 
trolled very largely by bodily and material conditions. The power of 
these conditions upon the soul in wakefulness and health is most efficient, 
and often irresistible. At times they nearly displace and set aside the 
higher powers. Weariness, pain, disturbing sounds and sights, and many 
other influences, so weaken and distract the attention — thley so absorb or 
lower the intellectual and voluntary energy, that perception, memory, 
reasoning, and even consciousness itself, are well-nigh suspended. 

It should not be surprising then, that under other physical conditions, 
such as sleep and cerebral excitement, even stranger psychical phenomena 
should be manifest. Whether or not any connection can be traced between 
these physical changes and the psychical results, the fact that there are 
extraordinary effects of this sort, is in entire accordance with the analogies 
suggested by facts that are familiar and acknowledged. 
(3.) By other (3.) The comprehensive law under which past mental states 
thematerSs on are reproduced, should be distinguished from the materials 
which it works. U p 0n w hi cn it operates. While the laws of representation re- 
main the same, the conditions under which, and the materials with which 
they act, may vary enough to account for every variety of phenomena. 

8 313. The law of reproduction acts out of consciousness, 
consideration of We find it in being and in constant activity. We can neither 

the conditions , . , . T . . ,. ,. 

of rcpresenta- hinder nor arrest its course. It is continually presenting to 
our view images or ideal objects of knowledge, of some of 



§313. REPEESENTATION. — THE PHANTASY. 329 

which we distinctly recall that they have been previously present a? 
realities or images, or infer that this must have been true of them. It ia 
constantly casting up or turning out before us some image that more of 
less efficiently catches and holds the attention. The suggesting object ia 
often entirely unnoticed. We are not aware how we came to think of 
some image or picture, that obtrusively thrusts itself upon our notice, or, 
as we say, springs up in our mind. Here and there we notice one that is 
more important and interesting than the others. To the actual reproduc- 
tion of an image, two conditions are necessary, viz., its actual previous 
presence to the mind, and the existence of an exciting occasion in some- 
thing united with it as an element of the mind's previous knowledge or 
feeling. 

unnoticed bodi- ^ n dreaming, insanity, etc., these conditions vary in both 
!? P ro a duce™ ay in particulars. This is explained in part by the very great 
dreaming, etc. variety of elements that enter into the soul's experience. 
First, in the states of distinct and easily-remembered consciousness, there 
are many elements less distinctly noticed — elements purely accessory and 
subordinate. In the states under consideration, these may be brought 
forward either as the materials of phantasy, or as the mediate suggestors 
of other materials. In every act 'of distinct perception, there is an ex- 
tended background of such objects, standing out in the field of view 
with more or less prominence, but all engrossing some share of the soul's 
energy. Any one of these objects, under possible exciting occasions, is 
capable of being recalled. In the normal states of the soul, the prominent 
or central object is usually recalled. In an abnormal state, some one of 
the accessories may be represented. Under the feelings and purposes 
of wakefulness, a certain class of pictures and thoughts only may be 
certain to be thought of. In dreaming, another set may present them- 
selves ; in insanity, still another ; and yet all of these may have been 
gathered from the mind's own experience. Again : there are many con- 
ditions of the soul marked by little energy of attention, as well as by the 
feeble influence of rational purpose, in which the phantasy alone prevails. 

In walking, in driving for relaxation, in extreme fatigue, in the transitions from wakefulness 
to sleep and from sleep to wakefulness, in the many listless hours or seasons of reverie, 
there are multitudes of acts and objects which leave little impression, and are rarely, if ever, 
distinctly brought back to the rational and wakeful memory or imagination, simply because 
these are preoccupied by occasions which suggest another description of material from past 
experience. But there is a possibility that any of these should be recalled under novel cir- 
cumstances. 

Again, there are activities that have been experienced previously to the soul'a 
rhe pre-con- conscious action. The soul exists and acts in a rudimentary way, long before 
encel^and^ates" there is a rational apprehension of its states. Some of these acts tend to be 

reproduced, and, under varying circumstances, may return either as a prin- 
cipal or accessory element. Again : the undefined bodily sense-perceptions, or sensatior.s 
which are accessory in every mental experience, and are prominent in not a few — which form 



330 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §313. 

the background of many, and come into the foreground of many also, all tend to recur again. 
In the rational and wakeful periods of activity they may not, in fact, reappear, because they 
are crowded out by others that are more important ; but, under other circumstances, they maj 
be thrust forward as images, or as the occasions or suggestors of others, and thus, in part, 
account for the objects thought of by the dreamer and the insane. 



The bodily con- ^ ut ' seeonc ^ we notice that in these abnormal states of the 
dition excites sou ] ^ e occasions which control the presentation and sug- 

peculiar images. ' J. o 

gestion of images are peculiar. In sleep, all the organs of 
sense-perception are more or less quiescent, while the vital organs are active. 
In insanity, etc., the bodily condition and activities are peculiar. In both, 
they are greatly unlike those which are present in wakefulness and health. 
This is conceded by all physiologists. These peculiar and morbid bodily 
states are manifest to the soul in the form of peculiar sensations, both 
vital and organic. Sleep, from the beginning to the end, is attended by 
a series of sense-perceptions unlike those experienced in wakefulness. 
We refer to those which pertain to the body, and its subjective condi- 
tion. Insanity, in all its forms and degrees, is attended by a nervous 
excitement or depression, which is revealed to consciousness by irritating 
and uncomfortable sensations. The character of these sensations varies 
with the nature of their exciting occasions. But these sensations, thus ex- 
cited, become themselves, in turn, the excitants of images and thoughts 
kindred to themselves. 

For example : suppose, in sleep, when the sensations appropriate to the bodily organs are 
all withdrawn, some condition of the stomach or the brain furnishes positive and peculiar 
sensations to the mind. These, by the necessity of the case, are all-engrossing. They fill 
the mind's field of perception, there being none of the outward senses in action. But if, for any 
reason, these sensations have been associated with any other objects of knowledge, either 
realities or images, these will be certain to be revived. These being recalled, in their turn 
will call up others, and the mind being wholly free from the preoccupations of the sense- 
world, will be given up to the objects of phantasy, the current of which will be swayed and 
directed by two elements — viz., the subjective sensations occasioned by the bodily condition 
and the associating force of the images which the unfettered phantasy suggests. In insanity, 
let some morbid condition of the brain or nervous organism preoccupy the mind with sensa- 
tions so painful and absorbing as to forbid the continued notice of the sense-world, or so rapid 
as to render it impossible for the nik^. to obtain distinct perceptions even of the more familiar 
objects, and these all engrossing sensations may not only be confounded with and mistaken for 
real things, but may act as the suggestors of any images with which such abnormal sensations 
may have been associated, or to which they are akin. 

The creative A third consideration should also be noticed. The creative 
phlntapynot^to power of the phantasy may have especial activity in 
be denied. dreaming and insanity. "Whatever that power may be in 

its functions and products — if it be allowed that the phantasy is in any 
sense creative — if, in the waking and rational states, it is not tied to a 
simple reproduction of the past ; if it has any liberty of origination, then 
it might be natural and credible for it to exercise this freedom more 



§314. EEPEESENTATION. — THE PHANTASY. 331 

fully when unlimited by sense, reason, or will, than when constrained by 
these in the earnest activities of the wakeful and rational hours. That the 
creations of the phantasy of the dreamer and the madman have no cor* 
respondent realities, is obvious to all. The creations of " a madman's 
dream " are conceived by us as the most unnatural and the wildest of all 
unrealities. Whether there can be any explanation of the laws of this 
creative power or not, or any solution of the kind of products which it 
evolves, it is but just to observe that it is exerted in the sleeping as well 
as in the waking states. If the phantasy is, in its very nature, a creative 
as well as representative power, it is not surprising that it should create 
in madness and in sleep. If its creations are free in the one state, when 
reason is wakeful and the will is attent, and earnest purposes control, it is 
not surprising that, in those conditions of activity in which these influences 
are feeble, its products should be irrational and unnatural. 

These considerations may serve as the foundations of a general theory 
of those various conditions of the soul's activity known as faintness, 
dreaming, somnambulism, and delirium. They are designed only to pre- 
pare for a more particular consideration of each. We consider, first of 
all, sleep, in two aspects. , 

(1.) Sleep as a condition of the body, or, Sleep physiologically considered. 

§ 314. We cannot understand sleep as a state of the soul, without consider- 
The senses, in ing the corporeal conditions of these peculiar psychological phenomena. In 
orTess inert™ 01 order to interpret it psychologically, we must first consider it physiologically. 

In sleep, physiologically viewed, the organs of perception, and the nerves 
connected with them, are comparatively inactive, and seem incapable of performing their 
accustomed functions. The nervous activity which is essential to their being used in the ser- 
vice of the soul is greatly weakened, and is often, to appearance, entirely suspended. The 
power of the eye and the ear to perform their parts as the conditions of the several sense- 
perceptions appropriate to each, no longer exists. Popularly speaking, these organs of the 
body are no longer affected by their appropriate stimuli, and no longci themselves affect the soul. 

Conversely, also, the soul can no longer control the organs of sense and of 
They are not locomotion; or, more exactly, the soul loses, in a very great degree, its 
soul. 10 G ^ ' power to direct these organs. The eflfe <,nt nerves connected with these 

organs are so far weakened or lowered in tone as to render this control very 
imperfect, and seemingly to destroy it altogether. All the functions which connect the soul 
'Vith the external world, and which depend on the senso-motor nerves and the cerebro-spinal 
system, are nearly, or quite, suspended in sleep. 

On the other hand, the functions of the vegetative, circulatory, and respiratory 
The vegetative, organs, which are directly connected with the ganglionic system of nerves, 
respiratory' life 1 . g° on as usual, though in the case of some with a somewhat diminished 

energy. The heart beats, and the lungs are expanded and contracted ; the 
Btomach digests, but at a lower than its customary rate. It would follow that nutrition, or 
the secretion of the food, would also be less rapid and energetically effected. That in all 
these functions the whole tone of life is lowered, is manifest directly from observation, and is 
inferred from the greater sensitiveness of the body in sleep, to all those agencies which weaken 
^ or endanger the life. The temperature of the body is lowered ; hence the need of warmer 
clothing, and the greater readiness to take cold, to be injured by malaria, or other destructive 
Influences. All these facts indicate that the vital force, or the power to resist antagonistic 



S3 2 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §315. 

agencies, is diminished. On the other hand, it is certain that the nutrition of the brain and the 
whole nervous organism, is greatly augmented in sleep, and that sleep is even essential to restore 
the waste of their material which wakefulness occasions. What is the precise manner, or what 
are the laws by which this restoration is effected in sleep, physiology cannot fully explain. It 
can only observe and record the fact, of the truth of which there cannot possibly be any question 
or doubt. That the restoration of this power is especially needed by that portion of the 
nervous organism which is affected by the action of the intellect, is also beyond dispute. 

A few recent and carefully-conducted observations and experiments have 
Recent discov- established the following results : In sleep, the flow of arterial blood is 
elusions. " diminished, and its quantity is sensibly withdrawn from the brain. The 

apparent congestion of the vessels of the brain is occasioned either by the 
more sluggish movement and larger accumulation of venous blood, or by the presence of the 
watery cerebro-spinal fluid. In dreams, the arterial circulation in the brain is somewhat 
quickened. In deeper and dreamless sleep it is less rapid. 

In wakefulness, the brain and body are wasted by the more rapid action of the oxygenated 
or arterial blood ; and hence the wasting, destructive, and exhaustive processes are in excess 
of the nutritive. In sleep, the nutritive and constructive are. in excess of the wasting; so 
that, while the body is in this condition, not only is the waste of the waking hours repaired, 
but additional force is accumulated and stored up against the demands which will be made upon 
it when wakefulness returns. The increased intellectual and emotional activity of the waking 
state involves the most rapid waste of the brain. If wakefulness is protracted too long, by 
nervous restlessness, or excessive mental occupation or anxiety, it terminates in fever, delirium, 
or dementia, through a temporary disease or permanent lesion of the nervous organism itself. 
Hence, sleep is, if possible, more absolutely indispensable to the restoration of mental activity, 
than to that of any other human function. 

The incapacity of the organs of sense to be affected by impressions from 
These conditions without, as well as to yield to influences or directions from within, varies at 
tioif and degree!" different times. It occurs in different degrees, from the slight hebetude or 

obtuseness of which we are aware on the first approach of slumber, and from 
which we can easily be aroused by any usual excitement from the world without, up to the 
deepest slumber from which no external appliances can arouse the subject to even momentary 
sensibility. The want of control of the soul over its organs, also varies from the momentary 
loss of power which can suddenly be resumed, to that permanent impotence to speak or move, 
which is experienced in the most distressing nightmare. 

§ 315. In falling to sleep, the soul passes through many of these conditions, 
The soul falls beginning with the slightest unconsciousness, and proceeding more or 
grees? * 6 ~ gradually through more or fewer intervening stages, according as the sleep 

attains a more or less complete insensibility, and reaches this state by tran- 
sitions that are more or less rapid. In awaking from sleep, it emerges from a condition of 
more or less complete insensibility to one in which the senses are fully refreshed and active ; 
and more or less gradually, according as the occasion and manner of its waking is more or less 
gentle or violent. The same is true of the processes by which it loses and regains its com- 
mand over the organs. 

Cabanis (Rapports du physique et du moral, etc., Mem. x.) endeavors to show that therel 
is a natural and regular order in which the several senses fall to sleep. The sight is the firstl 
which becomes quiescent ; the sense of taste is next in order ; the sense of smell is affectedl 
next ; the hearing next ; and, last of all, the touch. In awaking, the touch is most easily! 
aroused, at least in certain parts , of the body, as the feet ; the hearing comes n#xt in order,| 
the sight next, while the senses of taste and smelling awake the last. But to this relative 
proportion of the intensity of sleep there are many exceptions in the case of different indi- 
viduals, and in the varying bodily and mental circumstances of each, if wc say nothing of the 
general proclivities dependent upon sex, age, etc. While these conclusions may be acceptec 



§ 316. BEPBESENTATION. — THE PHANTASY. 33S 

as general formulae, it must still be remembered that no two cases of falling asleep or awak- 
ing from sleep even in the same individual, are precisely alike in respect to the stages of 
progress or emergence. 

The different senses, as has already been intimated, fall asleep at different 
One sense may times in various degrees, and awake also in unlike proportions. This is true 
may be awake. of tne action of the sense-organs on. the soul, and of the reaction of the soul 

upon the organs. Thus, the sense of sight may be very obtuse when the 
sense of hearing is active, as is the case when a person watches by the bed of one who is ill, 
or in the instance of men who can find refreshment in sleep when reading or conversation i3 
going on, and be able to recite when awake what has been read or spoken while they were 
sleeping. The miller sleeps while his mill is grinding, but wakes if it stops. Another person 
sleeps while it is still, but wakes when it moves. The watchman, when wearied, sleeps with 
all his senses, except the senses of touch and muscular direction. Soldiers sleep in every sense 
and organ of motion, except the legs with which they march continuously. We may say of 
almost every case of slumber, that it is unlike every, other in respect to the proportion in 
which each of the senses is insensible or incapable of control. 

A remarkable story is told by Felix Platerus of Oporinus, a distinguished professor and 
printer at Basle ; to the effect that he read aloud to another person a long time from a newly- 
found manuscript, while he was soundly asleep in all his other senses as a consequence of a 
long and fatiguing journey. (Hamilton, Met. Lee. xvii.) 

(2.) Sleep as a condition of the soul, or, Sleep considered psychologically. 

§ 316. The activity of the soul continues during sleep. It is not entirely 
Does the soul suspended at any time, though its energy may now and then be exceedingly 
sleep 1 ' feeble. That it often acts during sleep, is confessed by all. Every dream 

involves some form of the activity of the soul. Inasmuch as all men ac- 
knowledge that dreams are possible during sleep, all must assent to the proposition that it is 
possible for the soul to be active while the body slumbers. There is some diversity of opinion 
in respect to the question, whether this activity is constant, or whether it is ever interrupted. 
Many have argued that this activity often ceases, from the circumstance that we are not con- 
scious, nor do we remember that we dream all the while that we are asleep ; that we know that 
we dream more frequently when sleep is less complete, as soon after we fall asleep, or just 
before we wake ; that in our deepest slumber it often happens that no signs of conscious 
activity are indicated to a looker-on ; and that it is not necessary to the continued existence of 
the soul that it be constantly active. 

On the other hand, it is urged that the soul is always active, because, on 
manV believe vfc awa king, it is at once aware of its own identity, which involves the belief of 
never ceases to continued existence during the interval of sleep ; and when it wakes, it may 

recall or review a continued series of sensational experiences, if it cannot 
bring back an uninterrupted course of conscious activities. Moreover, it is urged that the 
fact that the soul does not recall all its dreams does not disprove that it dreams, for there are 
many waking states during the progress of a single hour, much more during a day, which can- 
not be recalled. There are also many dreams which we do not recall ; as is obvious from the 
circumstance, that if, on waking, we lay hold at once of the thread which is in our hands, we 
can trace our way backwards through the maze of even a succession of dreams. When a per- 
son is suddenly awaked from the soundest sleep, and even from a state of confirmed stupor, 
and his thoughts are directed immediately to his mental condition the instant before, he will 
often be able to recall some absorbing dream ; or, if not a dream of definite thoughts and 
feelings, he will remember a series of benumbed sensations, painful or pleasant, that have 
occupied his energies. The reason why more of these past activities and experiences are 
not recalled, is that the waking thoughts and feelings are so all-absorbing as to exclude the 
opportunity of recalling, if the clue were at hand, and that this clue can only be reached bj 



334 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 315 

many indirect or intermediate trains of activity. That we are often conscious when we sleep, 
without knowing that we dream, is obvious from the fact that an uncommon light, or smell, or 
touch, or sound, even if these are very feeble, will awake us, and that we wake ourselves often 
at a prescribed hour (cf. Hamilton, Met. Lee. xvii.). 

The constant activity of the soul was argued by the Platonists from its independent and 
Opinions of Des- ethereal essence; by Descartes and his school, from their axiom, that the essence of 
carte.?, Locke, the soul consists in thought, and that therefore, if thought should cease, the essence 
and Leibnitz. f ^he soul would be destroyed. Against the school of Descartes, Locke (Essay, B. ii. 

c. i. §§ 10-19) urges that it is not of the essence of spirit to think ; and that, for aught we 
can prove, matter might, by the act of the creator, be endowed with the power of thought. Moreover, he 
contends that some men never dream at all, and that none are conscious that they dream continuously ; 
making in his argument the power to recall our dreams the test and the measure of the actual occurrence 
of these dreams. Leibnitz, in his critique upon Locke (Nouv. Ess. ii. 1, §§ 10-19), replies, that conscious- 
ness is not necessary to the soul's activity, and that it would not follow, therefore, because we are not 
conscious that we think, that we do not think in fact. He also urges, that there are feeble perceptions in 
all sleep, even when we are not conscious that we dream. This conclusion necessarily follows, from his 
doctrine of monads, involving as it does the constant activity or dynamic force of all existences and their 
ultimate elements, in the relations of each to every other ; and preeminently, the activity of those which 
are psychical. Modern psychologists are nearly unanimous in the opinion, that the soul is constantly 
active, though with unequal energy varying with the different conditions or intensities of the slumber. 
This conclusion is held by all except those who maintain that psychical activity is properly a function of 
matter and its organs. It rests upon the grounds which have already been cited, and on the clearer recog- 
nition of the very unequal energy of consciousness in the varying conditions of the soul's being. 

§ 31 *7. That the soul acts with feebler energy when asleep than when awake 
The soul, in is obvious from the circumstance that in some of its powers it scarcely acta 
feebler Energy. at a U w ith judgment or rational direction. It may be fairly inferred from 

the general dependence of the tone of its action upon the tone of the body 
which is observed in wakefulness, which dependence, as may be fairly inferred from analogy, 
extends to its sleeping states. The only possible exception to this conclusion would be sug- 
gested by the fact that some of the powers — e. g., the phantasy — may seem to act in sleep 
with greater energy than in wakefulness. This point will be considered when the action of 
the representative power is particularly examined. In general, we know from observation, 
and infer by analogy, in respect both of the sleeping and the waking states, that the psychical 
energy depends on the vital force, if, indeed, it is not identical with it, so that when the one is 
lowered, the other is weakened. The only apparent exception to this general remark is found 
in those conditions when great bodily or vital weakness manifests itself in the irregular and ex- 
cited action of some of the vital functions, and, in like manner, psychical weakness is exhibited 
by the excited violence of some of the intellectual or emotional endowments. With this 
exception, observation confirms what analogy suggests, that, in sleep, the general activity of 
the soul is greatly lowered. 

The powers and capacities of the soul act with unequal and varying energy 
ac^witb^un^auai m different persons and in differing conditions of sleep. 

and varying As the sleep of the body varies in the completeness of its effects upon 

GucrffV 

the whole body, and also upon its several organs, so is it with the sleep of 

the soul. In one dream, the power of sense-perception may be more active than in another. 

At one time, consciousness, even in the form of reflection, may be active ; at another, it may 

be entirely dormant. The reasoning and inductive faculty in some dreams is intelligently and 

earnestly alive, while in others there are no indications of the exercise or activity of either. 

§ 318. The representative power of the soul, as has already been said, is 
The representa- that which is especially prominent in sleep. The law or force under which 
sleep. powor m it acts has already been explained as the tendency of the soul to act more 

readily a second time in forms and with objects which have previously occu- 
pied its energies. This tendency' or force needs only to be supposed to be exerted without 
the regulating or dividing presence of the other faculties, in order to account for its greater 



§320. REPRESENTATION. — THE PHANTASY. 335 

apparent energy. This energy need be relative only, and not absolute, in order to seem to be 
greater, -when, in fact, the tone of the soul, in all its faculties and activities, may be weaker 
than in wakefulness. That it is the one power in which this energy is chiefly expended, 
whether it is greater or less, is so obvious as to be undisputed and unquestioned. 

All the so-called laws of association control the production and presence of the objects 
that make up the image-world of the dreamer. These objects are sometimes recalled under 
-the relations of time and space, in succession or co-existence. Sometimes the relations of 
likeness or unlikeness control ; at others, those of cause and effect. Very often, all these 
relations must be resorted to, to account for the presence of the various objects of which a 
single dream is composed. 

This force acts, as we know, out of consciousness ; and its energy and the grounds of it 
can only be known by its effects, in the actual emergence of objects to the mind's apprehen- 
sion. If it operates with but little interference from the directive or rational energies, we should 
expect that its actings would be unlike those of the regulated imagination or the regulated 
memory, for the reasons already given. That this is emphatically true of the images in the 
dream-world, is confessed by all. 

§ 319. This comparative irregularity and capriciousness pertains to the order 
Is irregular and in which these objects are presented to the mind. When the wakeful soul 
BO n Si ' "is intent on recalling some object to memory, all the operations of the repre- 
sentative power are controlled by this prevailing purpose. The multitude of 
varied objects which are presented by the associating power, are entertained or thrust aside 
by the judging and reasoning intellect, and so an order of their relative value is secured to 
the objects themselves by the mind's reaction upon them. Even if the mind gives itself up 
to reverie, it is constantly awake, or ready to be awake, to the suggestions of reason, of use, 
of beauty, or of rectitude. There are attendant processes of judgment even here, which are 
constantly discriminating between the true and the false, which judgments must direct the 
order of the re-presentations. 

There is also the rationalizing and sobering presence of the material world, with its ob- 
trusive realities that cannot be mistaken ; its permanent attributes, that cannot be changed ; 
its eternal and superior laws, that can neither be resisted nor set aside. The perpetual pres- 
ence of this fixed and orderly body of facts and truths, of itself gives reason and order to the 
fancies which it must in part control and regulate. 

But in dreams there is an absence of judgments, or the judgments are false, and the 
stream of images flows on, under the joint impulses given it by the energies of the mind's 
previous activity and the force of casual mental or bodily suggestions. The material world is 
withdrawn from the mind's cognizance as an apprehended fact ; it is as though it were not, 
and never had existed. 

§ 320. The mind's interpretations of the images of fancy, and even of its 
The judgments bodily sensations, are also false and irrational. First of all, it judges the 
wild. Why 1 image-world to be a real world. How this is possible, it is not so easy to 
explain ; that it is a fact, cannot be doubted. The only plausible explanation 
which can be attempted, must be derived from our previous analysis of the process of sense- 
perception. This analysis showed that the act of original perception is a judgment of di- 
versity — i. e., of the ego from the non-ego — involving the judgment of a relation to space. 
The acquired perceptions are even more obviously acts of judgment under which one sense- 
perception is taken as the sign of another, with a rapidity that is inconceivable and usually 
with a certainty that cannot be shaken. The first hint or sign carries the mind directly to a 
positive inference, if the original datum is correctly taken. The conditions of such judgments 
in both cases may be and probably are some effort of attention involving continuance in time. 
In dreaming, both these conditions are absent ; there is no effort of attention, and the objects 
judged are not detained for any interval of time. The mind is preoccupied by the action of 



336 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 321. 

the representing power or phantasy, under which one object or state introduces another ; the 
first one impelling the second, etc., so rapidly that the mind cannot discriminate or judge. 
Now, the first impulse, when a picture is presented of an absent reality, is to believe it to be 
real when there is no ground for the opposite belief. This is wisely provided in the constitu- 
tion of man, to secure all those actions for which the knowledge or the thought of any reality 
is given. The mind, in dreaming, yields to this impulse. The sense-world is wholly with- 
drawn, or but feebly indicated, through the temporary torpor of the organs of sense and the 
cooperating mind. The mind, apprehending no real world with which to contrast and judge the 
imaginary, uses the little force which remains, to infer that the products of its shifting phantasy 
are themselves realities. They are believed to be real, for they excite all the emotions which 
the realities are fitted to produce. Delight is experienced at the image of a friend believed to 
be present, who is perhaps far distant, or long removed by death. Grief is felt at some distress- 
ing event which is simply pictured by the phantasy. The mind is not only incapable of dis- 
criminating the real from the fantastic, but it interprets the real to be itself a part of its 
fantastic world. The bodily sensations which it experiences, the sensations of cold or heat, 
of oppression in the stomach or the heart, and pain or pleasure in any part of the body, it 
misinterprets in some fantastic way. Thus Dr. Gregory relates that, having occasion to apply 
a bottle of hot water to his feet, he dreamed that he was walking on Mount Etna, and found 
the heat insupportable. A person suffering from a blister applied to his head, imagined that 
he was scalped by a party of Indians. A person sleeping in damp sheets, dreamed that he 
was dragged through a stream. By leaving the knees uncovered, as an experiment, the dream 
was produced that the person was travelling by night in a diligence. Leaving the back part 
of the head uncovered, the same person dreamed he was present at a religious ceremony per- 
formed in the open air. The smell of a smoky chamber has occasioned frightful dreams of 
being involved in conflagration. The scent of flowers may transport the dreamer to some 
enchanted garden, or the tones of music may surround him with the excitements of a well- 
appointed concert. In all these cases, actual sensations are first interpreted as parts of the 
ideal scene, or they suggest some kindred image, which, in its turn, calls up a succession or 
series of pictures taken from the actual experience or waking imagination of the dreamer, 
all of which are believed to be realities. It is more or less distinctly implied by these errors, 
that the judgment of what is probable or possible is often greatly weakened, or entirely set 
aside. The incongruous combinations are made of forms that are inconsistent and grotesque, 
and events that are antagonistic and incompatible. Events and persons very far removed in 
time and very widely sundered in space, are brought together in a single scene. The per- 
son or scene breaks into fragments, and takes on new, incongruous, and motley materials 
under the very eye of the mind, without any shock to its sense of propriety or probability. 
The mind receives the new formation without being disturbed by the process of transition, and 
at once accepts the new to be as truly real as it did the old. The causes have no relation nor 
proportion to the effects, and the effects are incapable of being explained by their causes ; 
and yet the two are connected as causes and effects (cf. Milton, Par. Lost, B. v. 100-113). 

§ 321. The exercise of this judgment in respect to the higher relations of 
and other hMief tnou g at varies very greatly in the energy of its action, and the perfec- 
functions, in tion of its results. There are many cases in dreams in which single steps, 

or parts of a series of steps in reasoning, are taken surely and correctly, while 
these processes are entirely disconnected with what went before or followed after, as if tic 
rational powers had resumed for a single instant their full energy of function. In other cases, 
the reasoning may be correct and the data may be false, and yet the falseness of the data may 
not be perceived. In still other cases, the data may be correctly discerned, and the conclu- 
sions correctly derived, so that both premises and reasoning combine to a valid and true 
conclusion. Even the more difficult feats of the invention and construction of the materials of 
an argument, have been successfully performed in dreams. The creations of poetry, even to the 



§323. EEPEESENTATI02ST. — THE PHANTASY. 337 

selection of rhythmical words, the composition of sermons and addresses, have been often 
effected. Difficult problems in mathematics have been solved and remembered ; new and 
ingenious theories have been devised. Happy expedients of deliverance from practical diffi- 
culties have presented themselves, and brought relief from serious embarrassments. Tortini is 
said to have composed the famous Devil's Sonata from the materials recalled from a dream, in 
which the devil appeared to him, and challenged him to a trial of skill. Mr. S. T. Coleridge 
gives a detailed account of the composition of Kubla Khan, in a dream suggested by reading 
an account of the hero in Purchas* Pilgrimage, a portion of which he wrote down at once, 
and the whole of which was distinctly present to his memory when he first awoke. Dr. 
Franklin informed Cabanis, that in dreams he saw often into the bearings of political events 
which baffled him when awake. Condorcet would leave complicated calculations which he 
could not resolve when awake, to be taken up and finished while he was dreaming. In Moritz, 
Magazin zur Erfahrungs-Seelen-Kunde, vol. v. p. 59, is a poem composed in a dream by Baron 
Seckendorf, 1784. 

In all examples of this kind, the successful exeicise of reasoning and invention is always 
in that form of activity to which the person is familiarly accustomed, and it is not always easy 
to distinguish between the suggestion to the memory of what had been previously achieved by 
a man when awake, and an original act of the mind upon the data brought before him fur the 
first time in his dreams. Trains of thought often repeated by habit, have often the semblance 
of being the products of original thinking when we are awake. It is not surprising that the 
same should happen to us in our dreams. It must always be true that the results of practised 
skill come to the aid of the dreamer, to facilitate his processes. 

§ 322. Consciousness is ordinarily but feebly exercised by the soul in its 
Self-conscious- dreams. It is often said to be absent altogether. By consciousness is under- 
ness in dreams. stood the distinct apprehension of the psychical states, as the states of the 

individual ego, and not that fleeting knowledge of them which is essential to 
any intellectual activity. It is when consciousness acts as judgment, and recognizes the relations 
of psychical states, that its results remain in the memory. This form or degree of consciousness 
is usually entirely absent, or feebly exercised in dreams. The reason why it is thus feebly put 
forth, may be the same which accounts for the absence of judgment in its interpretations of 
the semblances of the material world. Distinct consciousness requires a certain continuance 
of the psychical activity of which we are conscious. Each psychical state, in order to be appre- 
hended as existing or as past, must continue for a longer period than is allowed by the hasty 
and tumultuous appearance of the objects of the uncontrolled phantasy. Even if these objects 
are apprehended as existing, they cannot, for a similar reason, be apprehended as belonging 
to the individual experiencing them. The thought rarely occurs to the dreamer, This thought 
or feeling is my thought or my feeling. These states rush by too rapidly to allow him to think 
of himself, either as an individual, or as an individual who has previously existed, or as pos- 
sessed of capacities or a character that have been developed or matured by previous training. 
None of these processes of reflection or comparison seem compatible with the objective char- 
acter and the hurried progress of ordinary dreams. In such states, the mind is eminently 
objective — it is occupied by, and, as it were, absorbed in the images which the phantasy paints 
and unrolls for its inspection. Hence it follows that so few dreams are remembered, and that 
here and there only a fragment of a dream comes again to the mind. 

§ 323. For the same reason the estimates of time are so extravagantly and.^ 
Estimates of even ludicrously erroneous. In our dreams, we occupy a year in making a 
time in dreams, voyage; we perform a journey, we witness a long procession, we climb a « 

mountain, and yet the time actually expended is inconceivably short. The 
following has been often quoted as pertinent : 

The recital is from Count Lavalette, of a dream which be had when imprisoned under sentence of 
ieath. "One night, while I was asleep, the clock of the Palais de Justice struck twelve, and awoke me. 
22 



338 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 326, 

I heard the gate open to relieve the sentry ; hut I fell asleep again immediately. In this sleep I dreamed 
that I was standing in the Rue St. Honore, at the corner of the Eue de l'Echelie. A melancholy darknosa 
spread around me ; all was still ; nevertheless, a low and uncertain sound soon arose. All of a sudden I 
perceived at the bottom of the street, and advancing towards me, a troop of cavalry, the men and horses, 
however, all flayed. This horrible troop continued passing in a rapid gallop, and casting frightful looks 
on me. Their march, I thought, continued for five hours ; and they were followed by an immense number 
of artillery-wagons, full of bleeding corpses whose limbs still quivered ; a disgusting smell of blood and 
bitumen choked me. At length, the iron'gate of the prison shutting with great force, awoke me again. I 
made my repeater strike; it was no more than midnight, so that the horrible phantasmagoria had lasted 
no more than two or three minutes — that is to say, the time necessary for relieving the sentry and shutting 

the gate The cold was severe and the watchword short. The next day, the turnkey confirmed my 

calculations." 

These erroneous judgments of time are the natural and necessary consequences of mis. 
taking the phantasms of our dreams for real substances and events. We picture to ourselves 
the incidents of a voyage or a journey. We turn these pictures into realities, and they carry 
with themselves the estimates of time which would be required if they existed or occurred in 
fact. The weakening of the consciousness of the accompanying mental states, withdraws any 
corrective influences which would be furnished by the more distinct apprehension of the time 
required for these psychical states. 

§ 324. This weakening of consciousness will serve in part, to answer ques- 
Moralresposibil- ^ ons concerning our moral responsibility for the feelings or actions which 
ity in dreams. we allow in dreams. In general, we may say that, in dreams we have no 

right judgments of the sense-world, or the psychical world, or our own indi- 
vidual states. These data being wrongly assumed, we are consequently not in a condition to 
judge rightly of what we ought to do or to be. We cannot properly be held responsible for 
any so-called actions or intentions. We sometimes fancy that we are other persons than our- 
selves. In such a case, we could not be held responsible for doing what might be appropriate 
to others, yet is not to ourselves. Whether there is any proper exercise of the will in dreams, 
we have not yet considered. 

§ 325. The activity of the sensibilities in the dreaming state requires a 
The emotional moment's consideration. That we feel in our dreams, or seem to feel, will 
drains. 8 1U uot De disputed. If we believe we are in danger, we experience terror; if 

we dream that we are safe or successful, we rejoice. In some cases, but not 
usually, the fear and happiness are as intense and as real as when we are awake. In other 
cases, we feel, but on the review are surprised that we felt no more. Our joy and sorrow are 
but the pale counterfeits of waking emotions. The intensity of the emotions depends on the 
strength of our belief and the time of its continuance. If a horrid phantasm or blessed 
ghost holds the attention and occupies the power for continuance, so that the answering emotion 
is aroused and intensified, it will be as intense and energetic as in the wakeful state. But if 
the impression be momentary, it is so quickly displaced, that the emotion is weak, and the 
recollection of it is feeble. 

§ 326. Is the will properly active at all during our dreams ? That we act, 
The activity of as well as know and feel, is obvious from experience. We seem to resist, to 
dreamsT 111 " struggle, to speak, to sing, to walk, to run, etc. We strive to attend, to 

remember, to contrive, to compose, etc. ; in other words, we seem to use our 
mental powers under some directive force for definite objects. Let it be granted that in 
proper dreams, as distinguished from somnambulism, we cannot move the body ; it does not 
follow that we make no effort, or that, so far as the soul is concerned, we do not act in the 
ways specified. It follows that the conative, or impulsive part of our nature — the capacities 
which fit for action — are employed in the dreaming state. If these capacities are properly 
called the will, then we use the will in dreaming. 

If we mean by the will, the capacity to direct the impulses by a rational or a moral pur. 
pose, it is equally clear that the will is entirely dormant, or, at best, is only occasionally or 



§328. REPRESENTATION. THE PHANTASY. 339 

feebly active. It is and must be inactive, because the appropriate conditions for its exercise 
are absent. The reason does not propose a distinct end which the mind retains in view. ThG 
reflective consciousness neither forms rules nor imposes them. The will cannot act as a 
rational or moral direction when these essential conditions are withdrawn. 

DugaM Stewart {Elements, c. v., p. 1, § 5) supposes that most of the phenomena of 
dream»existence and dream-activity can be accounted for by the supposition that the associ- 
ative power operates according to its laws without the direction or control of the will. Hia 
opinion, stated in his own language, is, " that the circumstances which discriminate dreaming 
from our waking thoughts, are such as must necessarily arise from the suspension of the in- 
fluence of the will." This position he illustrates by referring to the most striking and obvious 
of dream-phenomena. That a force is absent which concentrates and fixes the powers — here 
called a suspension of the will — is most manifest. But is this a cause, or a result ? If the 
suspension of the will, as thus defined, is a nearly universal attendant of the dreaming state, 
can we or can we not account for the suspension itself? Why is it that it happens invariably 
and necessarily, as it would seem, that the action of the will is thus suspended ? Might it be 
resumed, or ought it to be resumed, at any time, or is this suspension of the activity of the 
will itself the necessary result of those peculiar conditions of the soul which are connected with 
sleep ? In other words, is not the predominance of the vital and sensational activities over 
the higher, necessarily involved in the very conception of sleep, and is it not a necessary con- 
sequence of what we call the connection of the body with the mind ? That this is the case, 
is established by the inductions of general physiology, and confirmed by the observations of 
psychology. The more or less complete suspension of the functions of the will must be 
regarded as an incident, and not a cause, of the psychical phenomena of the dreaming state. 

Somnambulism, or abnormal sleep. 

§ 327. Sleep, normally experienced, involves, as we have seen, so far as the 
Three kinds of body is concerned, the entire inactivity of the organs of sense, and the en- 
somnambulism, tire absence of control over the organs of sense and locomotion. So far as 
the mind is concerned, the powers of sense-perception are inactive, as well 
as those of continuous and rational thought, and the representative power principally engrosses 
the energies of the soul. To this general definition there are not infrequent exceptions. 
Some of the sense-perceptions are at times more or less active, and the soul succeeds, at 
times, in affecting some motions of the body. Of these exceptions there are many varieties 
in respect to the degree of the affection or action, and the proportion in which one power is 
affected, or acts, when compared with another power. 

Somnambulism assumes three forms, which have certain features or phenomena in com- 
mon, but which, in certain respects, are unlike. These forms are the natural, the morbid, and 
the artificial. The natural, is that which occurs in ordinary sleep. The morbid, is an incident 
or phase of active disease of body or mind. The artificial, is induced by the instrumentality 
of another person. Each of these forms or manifestations is subdivided into varieties, which 
pass into one another by scarcely distinguishable shades of difference. 

§ 328. Natural somnambulism is distinguished from normal sleep by the 
Natural som- special sensibility of a part — generally some one of the organs of sense — 
fi ne< l " and by special activity in the use of some of the organs of bodily motion. 

The appellation, sleep-walking, is derived from the act of walking in sleep, 
which occurs more frequently than any other, for obvious reasons. It is essential to many 
more. A person reclining, must walk to reach the place where he desires to be. This often 
attracts the attention of friends, and occasions alarm. It is taken as representing many actions, 
as writing, talking, singing, spinning, playing on a musical instrument, and hence is applied aa 
a general term to denote them all, and others like them, as well as that condition of body and 
of mind in which these actions are conspicuous. 

A multitude of examples of natural somnambulism are recorded, each of which is distinguished bj 



340 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §331 

some special features of interest. One only will serve for many. " A young nobleman mentioned by 
Horstius, living in the citadel of Breslau, was observed by his brother, who occupied the same room, tc 
rise in his sleep, wrap himself in his cloak, and escape by a window to the roof of a building. He there 
.ore in pieces a magpie's nest, wrapped the young birds in his cloak, returned to his apartment, and went 
to bed. In the morning he mentioned the circumstances as having occurred in a dream, and could not be 
persuaded that there had been any thing more than a dream, till he was shown the magpies in his cloak.' 
-Dr. Abercrombie. 

The activities required in this case, were the sense-perceptions of sight to direct the move- 
ments and the active control of the legs and arms. Sometimes the sense of smell or of 
hearing, or of taste, are observed to be unusually acute. The- use of the voice is often ob- 
served. The mental powers are often excited with great energy, continuity, and success. 
Persons in the somnambulic state will recite passages from authors even in a foreign lan- 
guage, which they could not repeat when awake. Those who are imperfectly proficient in a 
language converse with far greater ease and correctness than they have ever been known to 
do in the normal condition. Some remarkable compositions have been written, and eloquent 
discourses have been spoken, which were quite beyond the ordinary capacities of the indi 
viduals from whom they came. 

§ 329. In the magnetic, or morbid somnambulism, such extraordinary mental 
Magnetic som- P ower has often been observed as to be ascribed to inspiration from another 
nambulism. mind, or to some miraculous deviation from the laws of nature. The subject 

has been supposed to discover the causes or seat of his own disease in some 
internal organ, and to be invested with some special sense, or endowed with supernatura) 
insight by which to apprehend his internal condition. He has often shown rare sagacity ir 
discerning characters and interpreting events. He has surprised his intimate friends by the 
wisdom and aptness of his replies to different questions. He has been thought to foretell 
future events concerning himself and others ; to have visions of such events by a super- 
natural inspiration or insight. 

The ordinary, and the magnetic or exstatic somnambulism, differ from each 
The natural and other, in that the ordinary is preceded and followed by ordinary slumber, 
gashed 1 . 1S m " while the exstatic comes upon the patient and leaves him at once, usually in 

a condition of extreme disease. In their psychological features, the two 

forms oi this affection may be considered as alike, differing only in the greater intensity of 

fome of their manifestations. Both are also exaltations of phenomena which are occasionally 

exhibited in common dreaming and sleep. 

" . S 330. All these conditions of the soul may be said to be abnormal, and 

Disease mam- ° ,.,-,,., „ , 

fested by dis- even morbid. For disease shows itself by the disturbance of the equihb- 

h^riu^ th of e< the rium of the several powers of an organism, as truly as by the weakening of 
powers. the energy of the whole or of any of the parts. A disturbance of the bal- 

anced or harmonious action of these powers may be manifested as strikingly by the excessive 
and surprising energy of a power, as by its failure to perform its ordinary functions with their 
usual force. In somnambulism, both these conditions are exhibited ; great strength in some 
powers and achievements, and surprising weakness in others. The manifestations of energy 
are, however, so surprising as to engross the attention and to withdraw it from noticing the 
attendant weakness. The observer is often so astonished by the indications of power as to 
lose sight of the signs of limitation and weakness. He forgets that these feats of knowledge 
and skill, which seem almost to be inspired or supernatural, are more than counterbalanced by 
ignorance and blundering. 

§ 331. In all forms of somnambulism, the representative power is the most 
Representation prominently and conspicuously active. The leading objects of cognition and 
nSuiism. 60 " 1 " feeling are the mind's own creations. The man lives and moves ; he feels 

and acts in and for a dream. Dream-objects are taken to be real existences, 
and these engross and absorb the chief energies, and direct to many of the actions. But the 



§333. REPRESENTATION. — THE PHANTASY. 341 

dream of the somnambulist is far more methodical and continuous than the dream of ordinarj 
sleep. The mind apparently rests upon its objects for a longer time, and gives to them a mor« 
fixed attention than it does to the phantasmagoria of the common dream. Certainly it must 
do both of these, when it adapts speech and motion to its dream-world, as it does whenever it 
is prompted to speak, and walk, and lift, and write, at the rate required by its phantasms. We 
are aware that its sense-perceptions direct the motions and regulate the rate of many of itp 
bodily acts ; but it were a serious error to suppose that what it seems to see, or to hear by 
the ear, makes up the entire world; or the principal part of the world in which the mind has 
its being and performs its acts. Besides these sense-objects, there is a multitude besides, 
which make up the background, and the foreground even, of its field of view. In the case 
of the nobleman cited, in all his movements to and from the nest of magpies, his thoughts 
were occupied with many phantasms which he considered real, and with reference to which he 
performed the actions recited. These formed the connecting members and the accompanying 
scenery of the sense-objects which he perceived. The fact that sense-objects were blended 
with them, served to steady and retard the progress of the dream, and thus to make it regular 
and methodical. The feats which the fancy performs, its power of memory, its skill in in- 
vention, and its resources of creation, are only the natural results of concentrated attention 
upon a few, and these connected objects. These feats are, in considerable measure, accounted 
for by that dependence on certain conditions of the body, and the sensations which they give, 
which we have already discussed in treating of memory and association. The morbid excite- 
ment of some parts of the sensorium and the nervous system, may quicken all the energies 
of representation, not only by facilitating concentration, but by bringing back the subjective 
bodily sensations which are the most fertile and ready suggestors of fluent images and words. 
But this exaltation of the fancy is purchased at the cost of its being limited to but few ob- 
jects — to single and spontaneous trains of thought running in the courses started and traced by 
the muscular and vital sensations, or the few sense-objects to which the excited senses are awake. 
Som of the § 332, *^ ne P owers °f sense-perception, so far as they are exerted at all, act 
sense - percep- with surprising energy and effect. It is not only a surprising thing that they 
surprising should act at all in so profound a sleep ; but that the organ should be more 
energy. sensitive and the mind more acute than in the normal condition, is still more 

remarkable. But this is often observed in the somnambulist. The objects seen are often seen 
by the faintest light, and yet they are seen most clearly, because actions requiring acute vision 
of these objects are performed with precision and success. The touch must be acute, or the 
somnambulist could not walk so confidently in difficult and dangerous places, nor avoid obsta- 
cles so dexterously, nor perform so many nice operations, as in dexterously writing and play- 
ing on instruments. The senses of smell and hearing are often uncommonly sensitive to 
odors and sounds. 

§ 333. The question has sometimes been raised, Whether the somnambulist 
nambulist S per- reall y perceives with the senses ? It has been argued that he does not, be- 
ceive at all with cause he also dreams, and because his dreams furnish the greater number, of 

fciie senses I . 

the objects of his knowledge and feeling. It has been inferred that, when he 
seems to perceive, he only dreams, and that what seem to be the objects of his sense-percep- 
tions, serve, through the sense-organs, to form a part of the dreams in which alone he knows 
and feels. To this it is sufficient to reply that he certainly acts with reference to the real 
world, and that he really acts — i. e., directs the motions of his legs and arms, and uses and 
modulates his voice. So far at least as he acts he must have real sensations. What interpre- 
tation he puts upon what seem to be his sense-perceptions, is another question. His dream- 
objects he believes to be realities and sense-realities. It would seem, then, that, instead 
of turning the sense-perceptions into a dream, he exalts dream-objects into sense-percep- 
tions, and thus causes both to blend into a consistent whole. The weakness of his judgment 
consists in this, that he does not distinguish between the dream and the reality ; but this does 
not prove that he does not truly perceive the real objects which address his senses 



342 THE HUMAN IjSTELLECT. § 334. 

But while the senses are often surprisingly acute, they are both limited and 
The sense-tier- 
ceptions, though, uncertain in their operation and in their results. The somnambulist sees sur- 

acute, are limit- pr^gi^ b u t h e sees on ]y certain objects that are present to his bodily vision. 

He does not see every thing in the apartment in which he is present, but 
only the table, or chairs, or the paper on which he writes, or the candle which he holds. 
Those objects which have some relation to his thoughts and actions are the only objects to 
which he is sensitively alive. There may be twenty persons before his eyes, but he will not 
notice them. If he comes very near them, or they stand in his way, he may see enough of 
the objects to know that he must avoid them — i. e., he may see them in their relations to his own 
thoughts and actions, but he does not know them as persons, nor recognize them as friends. 
So, too, he hears those sounds only which have some concern with himself. If a friend ad- 
dresses him in words that have no relation to his dream, he will not even hear the sounds ; 
but, if these words respect his thoughts and actions, he hears acutely. The same is true of 
smells and tastes. It is also noticed, that only a single sense at a time seems to be active, 
according as it is required. As soon as the stimulus or occasion passes by, it is no longer 
awake, but relapses into entire insensibility. 

The various observations that have been made, warrant the induction that the phantasv 
stimulates and awakens the organ of sense, and determines the mind to use it with wakeful 
attention. It is the soul itself that quickens the organ thus made ready by disease or weak- 
ness for this extraordinary activity, to that momentary excitement which is required to fasten 
the mind to its monitions. That the soul, as phantasy, can give additional energy to an organ 
of sense, and, so to speak, prepare it for both sense-perception and action, has been already 
shown. The apparatus needs only to become abnormally or morbidly sensitive to the percep- 
tion of sense-objects — i. e. to be prepared when held to its work by the fixed phantasy — to 
account for the extraordinary results of sense-activity which so greatly surprise us in the 
various modes and degrees of somnambulism. 

This extraordinary exaltation of single senses is not without its analoga in 
nary Muteness tne wakeful and normal conditions of the soul. There are occasions when, 
not ^without owing to organic excitement, a single sense becomes painfully acute and 

sensitive. The concentration of the attention follows as a natural conse- 
quence. If the attention is fixed from a merely awakened interest without any quickening 
of the organ, whether this is constant or occasional, the results are equally surprising. So 
surprising is it, that the vision of the sailor, the lacemaker, the horologist, the hearing of the 
sentinel and the hunter, the touch of the blind, the machinist, and the musician, seem to the 
stranger to be something almost supernatural. The still higher exaltation of these sense- 
powers, in the case of the somnambulist, is on the same ascending line with these natural 
variations. It is only extraordinary in degree, as the circumstances are extraordinary in then- 
nature and combination. 

n ■ i„ § 334. We come next to a subject still more interesting, and, at first sight, 

Can tne soin- t . „ 

namhulist have more puzzling, viz., the apparent increased excitement of intellectual power 

tfons e " Pe wit P h"out as manifested in achievements performed by somnambulists, particularly when 

the sense-or- i n the mesmeric or exstatic conditions. The first which Ave shall consider is 
gans : 

the claim for him of the ability to perceive material qualities and objects 

without the medium of the organs of sense. For example : it is claimed that he can see near 

objects through the thickest bandage, and with the back of the head ; that he can hear by the 

epigastrium, etc., etc. It is even asserted that he can see objects a thousand miles distant, and 

through the closest and thickest walls, and into the darkest and deepest caverns, etc., etc. 

In respect to the first claim, that near objects can be seen or heard inde- 
First, of near P endentlv of tne ear and tlie e ? c » we nced onl y observe that, provided many 
objects. f the stories are neither false nor exaggerated, not one of them proves that 

the mind can have sense-perceptions independently of the nervous organism. 
If the story be received as true, that the person has seen (not remembered nor conjectured) 



§334. KEPRESENTATION, — THE PHANTASY. 343 

through an interposed bandage or by the back of the head, it would still be true that the 
optic nerve and the retina might be so morbidly sensitive as to be affected by the light, even 
if the eyelids were closed or thickly covered. No fact is more clearly established than that, 
within certain limits, one part of the sensorium, or portion of a single system of nerves, can. 
ander extraordinary excitement, perform the functions of another. If the theory be accepted, 
now so current, that the various sensible qualities are manifested as modes and rates of motion, 
it would follow that the response of the sensorium is by answering rates of motion. If the 
retina and optic nerves were so sensitive as to respond to these motions or the moving force 
which we call light, it might make no difference whether this agent were responded to through 
the eye directly or indirectly, provided that the retina and optic apparatus were efficiently 
reached and suitably affected. Some analoga to these supposed phenomena are found in the 
so-called subjective sensations, which are occasioned by the direct excitement of the nerves by 
other media than light, food, odorous substances, etc. It is also to be remembered, that the 
sense-perception is not complete in any case till the intellect has interpreted the reports of 
sense. How far the mind, in the extraordinary exaltation of the somnambulic state, can pro- 
ceed in such a case by feebler reports than those ordinarily furnished, it is not easy to decide. 

The second claim is of a power to see distant objects which no sense-power 
Second of ob- can reacn > or objects immured in total darkness behind thick and solid walls, 
jects remote. Such a power, or its exercise, can be explained by no known powers or laws 

of Nature. There is nothing analogous to its possession or its exercise in 
any thing which we know in the normal actings of the soul. Whatever the power may be 
which acts in this way, it is not vision. The person does not see the object, but if he discerns 
any thing, it is a phantasm, an image, or series of images which are purely mental. If there 
be any thing which he apprehends, it is a mental object, the production of his own soul. It 
exists while he beholds it, within ar.d for his soul alone. If the object or scene has never 
been the object of his personal inspection, the pictures which he forms of it must be taken 
from materials within his own observation, or imparted by description. If it be the city of 
Pekin, or the Himalaya mountains, the picture is composed either of fragments of what he 
has seen of New York or Boston, of London or Paris, or the mountains of America, Europe, 
or else from some drawings or paintings of the cities or mountains themselves. If it should 
be claimed or proved that the picture or scene is original and yet corrresponds to a real 
object or objects, then the correspondence must be explained by laws and principles which are 
unknown to the psychology of the soul's normal activities. Whether such a correspondence 
has ever been established in fact, we will not here discuss. 

The third claim for the soul, of a power to understand its own bodily dis- 
TMrd, of the orders, as to their seat or cure, may be explained in part by the fact that 
body!° r ° * 6 ^ e su ff erer in. the somnambulic state is far more keenly alive than when 

awake, to his own bodily sensations. If an organ is diseased, the disease will 
often be manifest by means of sensations which are prominent and unmistakable in the soul's 
experience. These are the data for its interpretations or inferences. The disease may have 
been an object of intense anxiety and earnest inquiry. He may have more or less knowledge 
of the anatomical structure and the natural and diseased functions of many of the organs. 
If his attention is directed to certain sensations that are made very positive and intense by his 
abnormal sleep, and his intellect is sharpened to divine their seat or their cure, it would not 
be surprising if the person should sometimes be successful in his conjectures and prescriptions. 
In all these cases the thoughts and conversation of the person, if not his studies, will have 
been occupied with different affections of the several organs, their signs and cures, so that, 
in a certain sense, he has become a student of medicine, though not scientifically trained. It 
will always be found to be true, in such cases, that the insight of the somnambulist in respect 
to the names of the organs and their functions, does not go a step beyond what he has learned 
by conversation or reading. Let him be ever so gifted, he will not learn the nature or the 
name of a single organ, or its office, or a single remedy, which has not been made known 



344 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §335 

to him in wakefulness and health. If this is so, the case is reduced to extraordinary sagacity 

exercised upon data or knowledge communicated or impressed in an extraordinary manner. 

The claim that the somnambulist can see into the condition of the body of another, has 

already been considered. 

§ 335. Fourth, the exaltation of the higher intellect to the capacity to per- 

fxtraOTdinary 161 * ^ orm some vei 7 extraordinary achievements, remains to be considered. This 

intellectual ac- is much more remarkable in the morbid than in the natural somnambulism, 
tivities. 

The somnambulist sometimes displays great acuteness of judgment. He sees 

resemblances and differences which had not occurred to him in his waking states, and which 

astonish lookers-on. He is quick in repartee ; solves difficult problems ; he composes and 

speaks with method and effect ; he reasons acutely ; he interprets character with rare subtlety ; 

he understands passing events with unusual insight ; he predicts those which are to come by 

skilful forecast. In the eyes of the persons who have known him in his waking condition, he 

appears to be another person, endowed with new gifts, or quickened by some extraordinary 

inspiration. How are those phenomena to be explained ? 

We reply : By the excitement of the intellect from an intense interest in the 
His attention is subject-matter with which it is occupied, the concentration of the attention 
concentrated. for a long time upon a few objects only and a few of their relations, and the 

previous familiarity of the mind with these objects and relations. That the 
mind occasionally acts with energy when in the dream-state, even in its highest functions, has 
already been noticed. That, when it thinks and reasons in somnambulism, it is animated by 
strong excitement arising from a strong interest in the subject-matter, is obvious to all, and 
will not be questioned. So warm is the interest, that, at times, the subject of it seems almost 
to live in the objects and thoughts which occupy him. All his energy of feeling is elicited 
by them, and, of consequence, all his force of thought is devoted to them. Such concentra- 
tion, awakened by excitement, is often the one condition of successful effort. If it can be 
imparted to an intellect that seemed torpid and feeble, it imparts to it new energy and success. 
A mind once thoroughly aroused is furnished with triple power. 

Next, the attention is concentrated upon objects for a sufficient length of time 
And occupied to secure entire familiarity with them and their relations. The attention of 
with few objects, the somnambulist is limited, as we have seen, to but few sense-objects. To 

all other objects except those which excite this or that sense, it is deaf 
and blind. The phantasms which make up its dream are but few. Upon these it dwells, and 
to these it continually returns, till they become altogether familiar in all the few aspects 
and relations which concern his dream. From all the rest of the world he is shut out, being 
held for continuance to this limited field of view, and detained before it by the sense-objects 
to which his dream is related. , 

Last of all, the sense-objects and the dream-objects are ordinarily very fainil- 
Also with famil- * ar * ^ e J bave Previously Deen tne frequent object of thought and specula- 
iar objects. tion. The questions for which he finds new answers, the problems for which 

he devises new solutions, the events or characters upon which he casts a new 
light, are not for the first time before his mind. The operations of his intellect are also all in 
the line of his previous efforts and training. The somnambulist does not for the first time 
appear as a mathematician, poet, orator, politician, or divine ; nor does he display activities 
which have not been in their quality and kind, though not in degree, familiar to his use. Even 
the very subjects upon which he displays extraordinary wisdom or wit, are usually known to 
have engaged his previous thoughts, and to have received earnest and frequent attention. This 
previous thinking has prepared him to discern new relations, to form new judgments, or to 
arrange in new combinations matter that had already been familiar to his thoughts. It is not 
out of analogy to the processes and laws of the mind in the waking state, that, under strong 
excitement, with necessarily limited attention and upon familiar objects, it should rise to ex- 
traordinary achievements. But extraordinary as they are, their very extraordinary character 



§336. KEPKESENTATION. THE PHANTASY. 3 ic 

reveals the very limitations which are their condition. Its triumphant feats are not onlj 
counterbalanced by, but they are dependent upon degrading and limiting concessions. 

Moreover, these efforts themselves are single and isolated sallies of subtlety 
The efforts are and insight, rather than sustained and connected trains of judgment and 
E^gle.° na an reasoning. They are narrow rather than comprehensive, acute rather than 

far-reaching, exceptional rather than uniform, surprising rather than trust 
worthy. Whatever may be their rank as evidences of genius, or their value when used by 
another mind, they avail little or nothing to the person himself for his future use and guidance, 
because they are not connected with his previous thoughts or his permanent acquisitions. 

The gift of divination, or prophecy, which is claimed for the somnambulist, 
The power of whenever it deserves consideration, is explained in part by the extraordinary 
prophecy! 1 an sagacity which is developed in respect to subjects that are interesting and 

familiar to the mind. The somnambulist forecasts or prophesies, by reason- 
ing upon the evidences before him. His attention being fixed and his interest being aroused, 
he applies his intellectual force to the subjects before him, and shows the same sagacity in 
foreseeing future results that he exhibits in interpreting events that are present ; by the 
causes, the laws, and principles that are concerned in bringing them to pass. Other of bis 
conjectures which are confirmed by the results, may be ascribed to accidental coincidences in 
cases in which but few alternatives were possible. Psychology can go no further in explaining 
such events by the known operations and laws of the soul of man. A rational philosophy 
does not deny the possibility of supernatural aid or guidance in foresight of the future, when- 
ever there is worthy occasion for such interference — i. <?., whenever there is an end sufficiently 
important to warrant its use. But it forbids the belief that it is imparted for trivial or un- 
worthy objects, or on common occasions. 

One or two other features common to all the varieties of somnambulism remain to be noticed. 

§ 336. First, the somnambulist, when he wakes, usually, though not invari- 
H^usu^uTfor- a kty> forgets his actions, perceptions, and thoughts during sleep. His dream, 
gets his dream with all that it involves, is to him an empty blank. To many, this seems 

incredible ; to others, it is an insoluble mystery. That it is not incredible, is 
established by the amount of decisive evidence which is adduced of its actual occurrence. 
That it is not inexplicable, appears from analogous phenomena in dream-life, as well as from 
the dissimilarity of the conditions of mental activity in the waking and the somnambulic 
6tate. The dreams of the profoundest sleep are rarely remembered, for the reason that the 
bodily condition, with all the sensations which it involves, is, in many respects, very unlike 
that which attends our lighter slumbers and our waking states. The sensations which accom- 
pany these varying conditions, as has been shown, are an essential element in our mental 
experiences. If the phantasy is active, they are the essential conditions of its activity in any 
determinate direction. For this reason, these bodily sensations direct the course and furnish 
the occasions for many of our dreams. But in somnambulism these sensations are more 
controlling and more unique than in any other dreaming or in any other sleep. Whatever 
else there may be which awakens and directs the phantasy is, if possible, still more unlike 
any other experiences of wakefulness or sleep. If the transition from ordinary sleep and 
ordinary dreams to wakefulness is often so abrupt and complete as to involve entire oblivion 
of all which we have thought, or felt, or done, it is less surprising that, when we awake from 
the sleep of somnambulism, whether the transition be sudden or gradual, it is so complete 
that the present has no relation to the past. For the functions of memory it is as though we 
bad entered a new world, or begun a new existence. Our bodily experiences, the objects 
which we discern, the feelings which we experience, and the acts which we perform, are all so 
peculiar, that we do not remember our own selves. We do not, for the reason that what 
constitutes ourselves — i. e., our experience of states of feeling and thought — in the two cases, 
is greatly unlike. From those obscure bodily sensations which we can distinguish or define, 
up to the most obtrusive objects of sense and consciousness, with the imagery of phantasy 



346 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 338 

which they suggest, the springs of activity, the materials for feeling, and the objects of 

thought, are so diverse, that the man in the one condition, does not remember himself in the 

other. 

§ 337. These considerations both explain and confirm the second fact that has 

r^tre^HibTrsa sometimes been observed, viz. : that the somnambulist, when he passes 

previous som- into a succeeding condition of abnormal activity, remembers the experiences, 
nambulic state. , '-...'■• ,■,„», V, 

and, as it were, remembers the self of the preceding states. How this 

should be possible, most clearly appears from the principles already laid down : The objects 

of thought and memory, the motives and directors of action which were present in the 

previous condition, return to him a second time, and they bring with them their attendant 

experiences. "When the soul passes a second time into the surroundings of his abnormal 

being, they are no longer strange, but he recognizes them as familiar, and, taking up new 

threads of memory, he recalls his preceding dream. 

Some remarkable instances are recorded of alternating states, in each of 
Capacity for al- which the acquisitions, the capacities, the employments, were unlike those 
and activities. ^ n * ne other, and yet, as the similar states recurred at intervals, they were 

connected by continuity of memory. 

One instance is described as follows : " The patient was a young lady of cultivated mind, and the 
affection began with an attack of somnolency, which was protracted several hours beyond the usual time. 
"When she came out of it, she was found to have lost every kind of acquired knowledge. She immediately 
began to apply herself to the first elements of education, and was making considerable progress, when, after 
several months, she was seized with a second fit of somnolency. She was now at once restored to all the 
knowledge which she possessed before the first attack, but without the least recollection of any thing that 
had taken place during the interval. After another interval, she had a third attack of somnolency, which 
left her in the same state as after the first. In this manner she suffered these alternate conditions for a 
period of four years, with the very remarkable circumstance that, during the one state, she retained all her 
original knowledge ; but, during the other, that only which she had acquired since the first attack. During 
the healthy interval, she was remarkable for the beauty of her penmanship, but, during the paroxysm, 
wrote a poor, awkward hand. Persons introduced to her during the paroxysm, she recognized only in a 
subsequent paroxysm, but not in the interval ; and persons whom she had seen for the first time during 
the healthy interval, she did not recognize during the attack." (Abercrombie, Inquiries, etc., p. iii. § iv.) 

§ 338. Certain peculiar features of the artificial somnambulism, remain to 
somnambu- be noticed. Its distinguishing feature is, that it is induced by the inter- 
b^the ^encv vent i° n °f another person, who, by means of passes or other appliances, 
of another per- brings the subject into a sleep and dream, the processes and objects of 

which he directs, and from which he awakes him at his own will. Hence it 
is called artificial, as effected by another, in distinction from the natural, which is induced by 
ordinary sleep, and the morbid, which is the incident of active disease. It is also called the 
magnetic sleep. It originally received this appellation, because it was supposed to be pro- 
duced by a magnetic influence, generated by or attendant upon all the animal functions. This 
influence was supposed to be generated or accumulated in some persons in larger quantities 
than in others, and to be emitted by them at their will in such a way as to affect a correspond- 
ent receptive force in others, who are thereby subject to any influence which is emitted from 
the more highly magnetized person. The influence in question was supposed to be akin to 
the magnetic force which pervades the earth, and inorganic matter generally. The appellation' 
is retained by those who do not receive the theory on which it was originally employed. 

Traces of this doctrine may be found in the wrilings of Paracelsus. It was received also by the 
Rosecrucians, favored by Goclenius, Van Helmont, Robert Fludd, and many others. 

The most notorious practitioner of the art in modern times was Mesmer, who expounded the doctrine 
of animal magnetism as already explained, and practised it with abundant apparatus, designed to collect 
and control the so-called magnetic influence with the aid also of many appliances addressed to the imagin- 
ation, and which were fitted to invest his person and his processes with greater mystery. M. de Puys6gur, 
following Mesmer, abandoned the use of magnets, etc., and relied on passes or motions of the hand to pro- 
duce the so-called magnetic effects, and this gave the new form to the practice of the art which has ever 
since been followed. 



I 340. REPRESENTATION. — THE PHANTASY. 34" 

§ 339. There is still another condition called hypnotism, or the hypnotit 
Hypnotism ex- state > wfticn ma y be properly called the artificial sleep as distinguished from 
plained. the artificial somnambulism — i. e., the artificial dream. It is like somnam- 

bulism, as produced by the agency of another, and as being under the control 
of the producing agent. The connection of the mind of the operator with the mind and the 
actions of the subject, is not so manifest, or is not always carried so far as is claimed for the 
other. It is however so like it in every essential feature, as to deserve to be considered as at 
least a lower degree of artificial somnambulism. 

The name hypnotism was first applied to this state by James Braid, M. D., etc., etc., a distinguished 
physician, of Manchester, England. As the result of a series of experiments which he instituted to test the 
doctrines of Reichenbach, as laid down in his Researches on Magnetism, in support of a new imponderable 
which should explain the phenomena of animal magnetism, Dr. Braid discovered that he could induce an 
ai-tificial sleep upon susceptible patients, by fixing the attention of the eye upon a bright object, without 
the instrumentality of passes. This sleep, in his view, is the result of a congestion of the organ of vision 
and of a part of the brain. It is partial only, and leaves a part of the system open to sensible impressions, so 
that it is possible for the operator to maintain some communication with the subject of it by words and signs. 
The production of this sleep, and the processes which occur while it is going forward, are considered by Dr. 
B. as examples of the control of the body by the mind. The direction of the attention to the several organs 
and other parts of the body, results : first, in a greater excitement of their normal activity ; second, in 
illusions of sense-objects when the attention is stimulated by the imagination of the subject and the voico 
of the operator ; third, in a congestion terminating in an abnormal sleep, which can be directed and con- 
trolled by the operator. Dr. B. supposes that, as the result of long practice, this sleep may be voluntarily 
assumed and continued for several days, forming what he calls " human hybernation." See Hypnotism, or 
Nervous Sleep considered in relation with Animal Magnetism or Mesmerism ; also, the Power of the Mind 
over the Body, etc., etc. See also Uilectro-dynamisme vital, par J. P. Philips. 

For the purposes which we have in view, hypnotism and artificial somnam ■ 
How related to bulism or mesmerism, may be considered as one. The states so designated 
somnambulism, have the following features : Artificial sleep ; entire or total insensibility of 

some of the sense-organs ; an unnatural excitement and acuteness of others ; the 
capacity to maintain some relation with the operator, so that the sleep and the dreams of the* 
subject are under his exclusive direction and control. All these phenomena, with one appa- 
rent exception, are analogous to those of the forms of somnambulism already considered. 
The production of the sleep is the result of an excitement of some of the sense-organs or 
parts of the nervous system, initiated by exciting and fixing the attention of a susceptible 
patient, by the aid of a strong will and the energetic activity of the operator. The physical 
and immediate cause of the sleep is common to all the cases. It is the congestion of the 
brain. The occasions or causes of the congestion are diverse. In natural somnambulism, it 
is an incident of ordinary sleep in a person of sensitive organism. In morbid somnambulism, 
it is an attendant of active nervous disease. In the artificial, the congestion is the result of 
the attention of the patient leading to excessive physical excitement of some part of the 
8ensorium. 

§ 340. In this form of somnambulism, the feature which is at once the most 
How one mind distinctive and the most difficult to explain is the control of one mind by 
another. * * another. While the patient is inaccessible to communications from every 

other person, he is open both to communications and impressions from the 
operator. Not only is he open to communications from him, but he is also in a considerable 
degree subject to his control. The senses and the attention are both sealed to words and 
6igns from every one besides, but they respond with unnatural sensibility to the slightest inti- 
mations from a single person. To many this seems incredible, and they reject all testimony 
in its support as unworthy of confidence. To others it is an enigma, which cannot be 
explained by any of the known laws of the soul's activity. 

If, however, we consider the phenomena of natural somnambulism, or even those of the 
common dream we shall find some striking points of resemblance. In both these conditions 
great insensibility of certain powers is conjoined with extreme sensitiveness of others. The 



348 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §342. 

dreamer and the somnambulist are dead in some of their senses and comparatively alert and 
active in others. The phantasy of both is active. To ordinary persons any approach to their 
inner life is entirely precluded. But to the observer who understands the habits, or can inter- 
pret the dream of either, it is not difficult to gain the attention, to institute and maintain 
conversation, to effect a communication with the thoughts, to give positive direction and 
control to the thoughts, and, through the thoughts, to the feelings. No feature of a person 
in this condition is so striking as the entire and helpless dependence of some of his powers 
on other persons for stimulus and guidance, and the passiveness with which both the senses 
and the fancy respond to their suggestions, and assent to their assertions. 

In the artificial somnambulism these extremes are intensified. The natural equilibrium is 
more effectually disturbed than in the state just described. The insensibility of some of the 
powers, and the sensitiveness of others, are heightened. This condition is induced by processes 
that bring the operator prominently before the attention of the subject, and connect him with 
the trains of thought which his phantasy pursues. The subject falls asleep with his eye fixed 
upon the operator, by obeying directions which fell from his lips, and following motions 
and signs which engrossed his own attention. When the sleep is effected, it is in its nature but 
partial. A portion only of his powers are awake, and, by concession, are morbidly and 
sensitively alive to their appropriate impressions. It is not unnatural, rather is it most 
natural and reasonable, to expect that these so sensitive powers would respond to the voice 
and even to the tones of the one person to whom the patient had passively surrendered in the 
beginning of the process ; that indications which escape the notice of ordinary observers, 
should be intelligible and patent for him, and that, when these indications are conveyed, they 
should control all his movements of thought and feeling. It is credible that the pictures 
before the fancy of the operator should be awakened in his own, and that his positive assertion 
should not only be taken as proof of their real existence, but should cause the subject 
to believe that his own senses perceive them, so that he should believe he sees a mountain, 
a house, brilliant colors, smoke, flame, etc., etc., at the will of the operator who dominates 
over his fancy. 

§ 341. There are not a few who require us to believe more and to explain 
Still higher ^ urt ^ er than we have already done. They assert that the operator cannot 
claims. only connect himself with the mind of his subject by the ordinary media of 

communication and direction, but that he can do so by what, to the senses, 
seems to be no medium at all, but which they assert is an impalpable, magnetic fluid. At all 
events, they insist on the fact that the operator can direct the thoughts and control the phan- 
tasy of the subject simply by willing to do so. They contend that his thoughts are followed 
by those of his subject by becoming the object of his direct insight ; that the pictures of his 
fancy are revealed to him as realities ; so that, whatever scenes he conjures up before the 
imagination, he can will to become realities to the patient with whom he is in complete 
rapport. If these are facts, we are free to confess that they cannot be explained by the 
principles and the laws of the ordinary psychology. On the other hand, this psychology can 
go far toward explaining why what is credible, as already accounted for, should be mistaken in 
the way we have described. It is not difficult for us to understand or believe that, to a person 
so sensitive to impressions as the subject manifestly is, many intimations would be effective 
which escape the observation of uncritical observers, if we say nothing of the deceptions 
which are the result of charlatanism and collusion. The balance of probability may be fairly 
said to be on the side of the version which we have given of the facts, and their possible 
explanation. 

§ 342. Our discussion of the phantasy would not be complete, if we omitted 
n a 1 1 u c i n a - to notice the phenomena of hallucinations, and spectral apparitions or 
ri\ions'etcf >Pa " illusions. A distinction should be made between the proper images of the 

phantasy, when mistaken for or believed to be realities, as by the dreamer 
and thfi somnambulist, and the actual vision of images in the formation of which the sonses 



§342. REPRESENTATION. THE PHANTASY. • 349 

cooperate, such as occur to persons in a morbid condition when they are broadly awake, aa 
also to those attacked by fever, or to such as suffer from the effects of certain narcotics or 
intoxicating drugs. One of the most remarkable cases of continued exposure to such visita- 
tions, is that recorded of himself by the celebrated Nicolai of Berlin in the Transactions oj 
the Royal Society of Berlin, for 1799. We copy the translation in Nicholson's Journal, vol 
vi. p. 161 : 

" During the latter six months of the year 1790, I had endured griefs that most deeply affected me. 
Dr. Selle, who was accustomed to hleed me twice a year, had deemed it advisable to do so but once. On the 
21th of February, 1791, after a sharp altercation, I suddenly perceived, at the distance of ten paces, a dead 
body, and inquired of my wife if she did not see it. My question alarmed her much, and she hastened to 
send for a doctor. The apparition lasted eight minutes. At four in the afternoon, the 6ame vision re- 
appeared. I was then alone. Much disturbed by it, I went to my wife's apartments. The vision fol- 
lowed me. "When the first alarm had subsided, I watched the phantoms, taking them for what they 
really were— the results of an indisposition. Pull of this idea, I carefully examined them, endeavoring to 
trace by what association of ideas these forms were presented to my imagination. I could not, however, 
connect them with my occupations, my thoughts, or my works. On the following day, the figure of the 
corpse disappeared, but was replaced by a great many other figures, representing sometimes friends, but 
more generally strangers. None of my intimate friends were among these apparitions, which were almost 
exclusively composed of individuals inhabiting places more or less distant. I attempted to produce at will 
persons of my acquaintance, by an intense objectivity of their persons ; but although I could see two or 
three of them distinctly in my mind, I could not succeed in making exterior the interior perception, 
although I had before seen them afresh when not thinking of them. The disposition of my mind prevented 
me from confounding these false appearances with reality. 

These visions were as clear and distinct in solitude as in company— by day as by night— in the street 
as in the house ; they were only less frequent at the houses of others. "When I closed my eyes they some- 
times disappeared, although there were cases in which they were visible ; but eo soon as I opened them, 
they reappeared immediately. * * * * 

About four weeks afterward, the number of these apparitions increased. I began to hear them speak. 
Sometimes they conversed together, but more generally addressed their conversation to me, which was 
brief and agreeable. At different times I considered them as tender friends, who sought to soften my 
griefs. 

Although at this period I was well, both in body and mind, and these spectres had become so familiar 
as not to cause me the slightest uneasiness, I nevertheless endeavored to dispel them by suitable remedies. 
It was resolved that an application of leeches should be made, which was accordingly done on the 20th 
April, at 11, a. m. The surgeon was alone with me. During the operation, my chamber was filled with 
human figures of all kixds. This hallucination continued uninterruptedly until half after four, at which 
time digestion commenced. I then observed that the movements of these phantoms became slower. They 
shortly began to grow paler, and at seven o'clock, had become perfectly white. Their movements were 
rather more rapid, although their forms were as distinct as before. By degrees they became more misty, 
and appeared to melt into air, although some were still apparent for a considerable length of time. By 
eight, the room was entirely cleared of these fantastic visitors. Since then I have several times thought 
that the visions were about to return, but they have not." 

The case of Nicolai is by no means solitary. There are not a few persons of sensitive 
organization who occasionally see distinct images, visions, and phantasms of real objects, 
which have distinct form, distinguishable color, and a certain permanent endurance like 
objects actually seen. These phantasms, moreover, take their place in relation to real objects. 
They are seated in chairs, they stand by the bedside, they look through the window, and have 
the dimensions which are suitable to their place and their distance from the observer. If the 
judgment of the subject of them is clear, and his self-command complete, he knows they are 
not real objects, even though he cannot remove them. (Cf. Hallucinations, or the Rational 
History of Apparitions, Visions, etc., etc., by A. Brierre de Boismont, Phil. 1853.) 

These phantasms are much more frequent in transient delirium from fever, or permanent 
insanity. They are the almost invariable result of a variety of drugs, as opium, hasheesh 
{Cannabis Indica), and stramonium. They are the fearful attendants of that irregularity of 
nervous action which is the consequence of excess in the use of intoxicating liquors. It is 
noticeable that phantasms of a certain description are peculiar to each of these drugs, as well 
as to the delirium tremens. These phantasms are not confined to vision alone. The other 
senses have their appropriate phantasms ; the ear has sounds, the touch various feelings, and 



350 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §344 

the nostrils distinguishable odors. None of these, however, are as definite, as permanent, or 
as clearly distinguishable as the phantasms of vision. 

§ 343. It is important to distinguish these phantasms or apparitions from the 
tions and spec- images of the phantasy proper. Unless we do, we cannot clearly understand or 
cat' representa- interpret the phenomena of delirium, and certain other forms of mental 
tions - aberration. Two agencies concur in their production — the action of the 

phantasy by means of the spiritual image, and that of the sense-organ which is appropriately 
concerned. It has already been observed, that when even a sense-object is imaged, especially 
if it be vividly and continuously pictured by the phantasy, as a sound or sight, the mind's 
attention to it tends to awaken a sympathetic activity of the sense-organ by which the object 
was originally perceived. By this provision the organs are enabled to act more promptly in 
case of a second perception, the phantasy working in aid of perception. It is a part of the 
same provision that the emotions appropriate to both images and objects are called forth, and 
the emotion or feeling appropriate, both tend to excite and fix the sense-organ to a more 
energetic sense-perception. By reaction, also, the sense and locomotive organs, when placed 
in the required attitude, act in their turn upon the phantasy, so that the assumption of an 
attitude, the adjustment of the features to the expression of an emotion, or the exercise of a 
perception, carries with itself a strong tendency toward the feeling or act that is appropriate. 

Again, in the sense-organism psychologically considered, there is a tendency to be excited 
or impressed a second time without a sense-object, in a manner similar to that which the 
presence of the object originally occasioned. Sometimes, in conditions of the system not 
known to be abnormal, this excitement goes so far as to give to the mind all the conditions 
of transient sense-perception. As a consequence, the mind has actual percepts without 
material objects, especially on waking from sleep. The mind sees colored spectra, and hears 
sounds when there are no material things or objects to be seen or heard. These occasional 
phenomena clearly establish the truth that the sense-organism, without the stimulus of an 
object, can be brought into a condition nearly allied to that to which it is excited by that 
object. Whether the excitement is mental or physical, is of little import, provided that the 
excitement is furnished. Let, now, the sense-organism be in a condition of morbid sensibility, 
and let the phantasy be also morbidly aroused, and it is not unnatural that phantasms should 
take material forms or be invested with material qualities ; nor is it surprising that, with the 
action and reaction of mind and body, these should seem for an instant to be real, until the 
judgment corrects the half-formed inference. But let the judgment itself be disturbed by 
more serious disarrangements of the nervous system ; let the conditions of attentive com- 
parison, continuity of memory and of thought, all be disturbed, as is the case in many forms 
of delirium, and the raving madness which sees nothing but phantasms where it ought to see 
realities, or which invests the real objects of sense with fantastic shapes and attributes, are 
fully explained (cf. §§ 109, 2Z1). 

§ 344. It is no part of our duty to give a scientific theory of insanity. We 

have only attempted to explain the part which the phantasy has in the mental 
nsam J ' operations, under this condition of irregular psychical activity. We ought 

also to add, that it is by no means universally the case that the insane are 
haunted with phantasms. It often happens that insanity is the result of mere mental con- 
fusion or distraction, such as may result from the excessive rapidity or the excessive pre- 
ponderance of certain organic or vital sense-perceptions. These may so distract or preoccupy 
the attention, as to preclude the possibility of a cool judgment or a controlled activity in 
respect to any matter whatever. In such cases, the phantasy, as well as the perceptions, are 
either so hurried and flighty, or so fixed and recurring, that the activities of memory, com- 
parison, and judgment are all untrustworthy. Or, again, the mind, and not the body, under 
some overmastering passion, has given to phantasy such complete control over the other 
powers, as to disturb the equilibrium of spiritual activity. In these cases the phenomena are 
purely mental. The sense-perceptions are correctly made. The vision is disturbed by no 



§ 34' EEPEESENTATION. THE IMAGINATION. 351 

spectr There are no special disturbances of the bodily sensations. But the mind is 
occup"*d with inferences incorrectly derived from its past experiences or its present condition. 
It is haunted with depressing images, or gloomy forebodings. Its distracted phantasy is so 
overpowered as to set at naught the testimony of the senses, the asseverations of trusted 
friends, the conclusions of its own better judgment, the principles, the faith, and the hopes which 
had been the soul's support and guide. (Cf. J. E. Purkinje, Wachen, Schlaf, Traumen, in 
Wagner's H.-W.-B. ; W. B. Carpenter, Sleep, in Todd's Cyc. ; A. Lemoine, Du Sommeil an 
point de vue Physiologique et Psychologique, Paris, 1865 ; M. L. F. A. Maury, Le Sommeil et les 
Reves, etc., Paris, 1862 ; Dr. Lyon Playfair, On Sleep, etc., Northern Journal of Medicine, 
1844 ; A. Durham, Tlie State of the Brain during Sleep, Guy's Hospital Reports, 3d series, 
vol. vi. 1866 ; A. Brierre de Boismont, Hallucinations, etc. (translated from the French), Phil 
1853 ; W. Griesinger, Mental Pathology and Therapeutics (from the German), Lond. 1867 ; 
H. Maudsley, The Physiology and Pathology of the Mind, New York, 1867). 



CHAPTER VI. 

EEPEESENTATION. (3.) THE IMAGINATION OE CREATIVE POWEE. 

From the phantasy, the most passive form and exercise of representation, we proceed to the 
imagination, its most active and elevated energy. In phantasy, representation sinks into 
an almost unconscious agency, that owns no allegiance to reason or intelligence. In 
imagination, it is elevated to the intelligent service of feeling and thought, of duty and 
religion ; and gives birth to the noblest products of poetry, science, and art. 

subject and § 345 - In treatm g of the creative imagination, we shall 
method of in- g rs ^ consider the general characteristics, conditions, and * 

laws, which are common to this power in all its phases and 
degrees of activity, and then the special forms in which it is manifested. 
The field of inquiry is very wide, and it includes subjects of varied in- 
terest. It includes all those processes in which man rises above the 
position of a simple coypist from nature and experience,, and in any 
sense originates new products. The appellations in common use to desig- 
nate these processes, or the capacities for their exercise, as fancy, imagi- 
nation, invention, reverie, are not applied with technical exactness, nor do 
they answer the ends of a philosophical explanation. They do not satis- 
factorily define the processes nor the powers, nor divide them by lines 
that are distinct and clear ; nor do they explain their products by their 
real principles and laws. And yet we are obliged to use and recognize 
them, for they are too closely intertwined with our common speech, to be 
laid aside or displaced. 

conditions and ^ ur fi rst duty ^ to consider the conditions, laws, and char- 
mon^the^im- acteristics which are common to the creative imagination. 
agination. ^ e as ]^ g rs ^ f a ]^ w hat are the materials which are fur- 

nished to this power from nature and experience, and which it is forced 



352 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §345. 

to make use of in all its creations ? In answer to this general question, 
we would say : 

1. Space and time are always employed in these processes, 
Space and time, and always appear in their products. The objects that are 

conceived, whether by the poet, the dramatist, or the inventor, 
as forming the scenes in which their personages, materials, or machinery 
are introduced, or within which they are conceived, are invariably sub- 
jected to the laws and relations of space. The acts and events which are 
described or imagined, all take place under the conditions of time. They 
precede and follow one another. They are either present, past, or future. 
The world of the imagination is always a world of imagined space and 
imagined time, as the world of reality is a world of real space and of 
real time. 

2. The necessary and universal thought-conceptions and re- 
Thought concep- _ . _ , . _ . -, , • , 

tjons and reia- lations under which we cognize real beings, are always 
supposed and employed. Every being and thing which we 
imagine, we imagine more or less distinctly, as substance with attributes, 
as cause and effect under proper conditions, and as means and ends. These 
original intuitions and relations, under which we view and by which we 
connect the parts of the existing world of matter and spirit, must all be 
introduced and observed in the world which we create. Every one of 
them must be used, or the work would not be rational ; but not a single new 
one can be suggested or evoked by the utmost energy of the creative power. 

It is not intended that the imagination should picture these in their abstract form. They 
cannot be imaged, any more than they can be perceived by sense or consciousness. But as 
concrete objects can be perceived only under these relations when they are imaged, they can 
and must be imaged as observing them. To these conceptions and laws we subject the whole 
realm of imagined beings, precisely as we subject to them the real world, whether of matter 
or spirit. But we cannot, by any creative energy, add a single new thought- conception or 
suggest a single new thought-relation. 

Theima ination &'■ ^e Pagination 1S limited to the material qualities which 
limited to mate- nature furnishes. We cannot create or conceive of new 

rial qualities. 

colors by any exertion of creative energy. Hume and Tetens 
both suggest, that if the imagination were furnished with the colors blue 
and yellow, it could, by combining the two, image the color green, with- 
out ever having seen it. The mistake is twofold. The eye does not see 
the blue and yellow in the green, but the product which results from the 
combination of the two. The imagination cannot go beyond what the 
bodily eye furnishes. 

In a similar way, the imagination is limited with respect to all the simple qualities of 
sense, to tastes, and sounds, and odors, and tactual feels, In cases when a new percept or 
property, as a taste, or sound, or color, seems to be invented by art, the imagination can only 
anticipate the result of its devising, by a likeness or analogy to some remembered experience} 
but it cannot image beforehand the product itself. 



§346. REPKESENTATION. — THE IMAGINATION. 353 

Limited also to 4# ^ n l^e m a nn er, the imagination is limited to the spiritua, 
powers spiritual phenomena and processes which consciousness reveals, as well 
as to the kinds of powers which these processes suppose. 
What it is to know, and feel, and will, we know by the varieties of oui 
own experience ; and what a being is who can exert these activities, we 
are taught by consciousness. In this way we learn what are the acts, and 
products, and capacities of spirit. 

No effort at creation or construction will enable us to originate a single additional power 
or product beyond these limits, nor a spiritual agent that does not possess these or like 
endowments. If we imagine the spirit of a brute, and its actings, and seek to enter into its 
consciousness, we imagine it as possessing some of these powers at least, with limited energies 
and products. As we ascend into the thoughts and feelings of higher spirits, we reverse the 
process. 

These are the varied materials which are furnished for the service 
and use of the creative power — the world of matter and the world of 
spirit, with their wealth and variety of things, agents, and events, limited 
by the finite relations and connections of space and time, subjected to the 
conditions of thought-knowledge, or of rational combination and analysis. 
These materials are all gathered from the experience of each individual, 
and may be ^presented by the laws of association, for the moulding and 
plastic energy of the creative function. 

it creates new § 346. We inquire, second, What new products can be 
Fation° to space evolved and created out of these materials by the imagina- 
tion proper ? We follow the order of the topics already 
adopted. 

(1.) In respect to space and time, though we cannot imagine objects to 
exist nor events to occur out of relation to each or to both, yet we can 
imagine them to bear relations to them, to which there is no type of 
reality. The variety of actual relations of this kind is vast, yet limited. 
Above all these, the imagination rises, and beyond all these it soars, fo lin- 
ing for itself, at its will and what it will, out of the immeasurably vaster 
range of possible relations. 

We take a few examples of the changes which it makes in the size of objects 
In the size of The types of animals actually existing, as of the horse, the man, the elephant, 
material objects. and the mouse) \\ e w ithin certain extremes, the greatest and least of their 

kind ever known. The imagination scorns these limits, and it can give us 
horses of every size, from the ponies of Queen Mab up to steeds large enough for the uses of 
a giant. It can create men smaller than the Lilliputian, and larger than the contrasted Brob- 
dignags. It can make elephants smaller than mice, and mice larger than elephants. 

Again, the position or situation of objects is determined by the character of 
In their relative tne * r mater ial an( * the laws of nature. Mountains hold a certain relation to 
position. vallies, streams to meadows, groves to lawns, houses to gardens, cities to 

harbors, roads, and rivers ; so that, where we find the one, we expect to find 
the other. But the imagination acknowledges none of these relations or laws of combin i ng 
or conjoining objects in space. While it must imagine them all spatial, it can place them as 
23 



354 THE IIUMAX INTELLECT. § 347. 

it will in space. It can plant a garden in a desert a thousand leagues from a dwelling of man. 
Tt can build and people a city, without harbor, river, or road. In its grouping of copse and 
lawn, and of meadows and streams, it can conceive of combinations and contrasts more pic- 
turesque than were ever effected at Chatsworth or at Kew. 

There are fixed forms of objects in nature, as the drooping 
rial forms! ma ^ elm, the aspiring pine, the umbrageous beech, the massive 

and gnarled oak. In rock and mountain, certain types are 
ever recurring. The same is true of the form of the horse, the deer, the 
dog, and of man himself. But the imagination can draw more graceful 
lines than nature has ever shaped, the material with which she works 
being more intractable, and the action of staining and decomposing ele- 
ments being inevitable. Following her idealizing images, art has given us 
the Egyptian tomb and pyramid, the Chinese pagoda, the Grecian temple, 
and the Gothic cathedral, none of which are copied from nature, though all 
have been suggested by her forms. 

In one aspect they surpass nature, for their lines are more consummately drawn, and their 
forms are moulded more perfectly. We even measure nature by what art has done, and com- 
mend her by epithets taken from art. We say of the stem of the pine or the elm, It shoots 
up like a pillar. We call the forest a " pillared shade." We say of a man, He stands like a 
statue ; or, He is an Apollo, for graceful strength ; She is a Yenus, for beauty. 

In time, also, the imagination has boundless range. It must 
latfonfof time?" represent all actions and events, as either note, before, or 

after, yet it can do as it pleases as to which shall be note, 
before, or after. Nature, in these relations, acts after its own laws and 
within its own limits. The imagination can override them all, and ac- 
cordingly she can make Puck " put a girdle round about the earth in forty 
minutes," and Uriel " glide on a sunbeam," " swift as a shooting star." 

§ 347. There are also special creations which the imagina- 

It creates mathe- " e . . . , . 

maticai entities, tion forms and constructs, oi which, space and time are 
assumed as the only required conditions. Let all material 
existences be conceived to cease to be, leaving only an empty void within 
any limits which may be supposed, and in that void which is feigned, the 
imagination can construct the surface with its ever-varied outlines, and 
the solid of every conceivable form. These are purely mental construc- 
tions, and exist only for the mind and by the mind which forms them. 
Their form may be suggested by certain material things with which we are 
conversant. The uneven sides of material solids may prompt the imagi- 
nation to conceive an extended surface that is perfectly plane or even. 
The irregular edge which is formed by the junction of two uneven sides, 
may excite it to conceive the mental line that is " the shortest distance 
between two points." The material may suggest the mental solid, which 
the imagination frames. But the line, the surface, and the solid con- 
structed by the mind, are far more perfectly drawn and moulded than 



i\ 



§ 349. REPRESENTATION. THE IMAGINATION. 355 

nature has ever furnished in material objects, or than art has imitated 
with material instruments. 

Should it be conceded that these creations of the imagination are not the ideal point, line. 
And surface with which the mathematician is conversant, they certainly quite surpass the coarser 
products of nature and art. 

These constructions can be combined and divided by the same power that forms them 
Thus, an imaginary line can be prolonged, imaginary surfaces can be adjoined, imaginary 
solids can be piled together, without limit in direction or form. 

The imagination can also sweep all actual events and 
and algebra 1 ** 10 phenomena from the line of time, and then plant along its 

course the shadows of events that shall only symbolize or re- 
present its successive intervals or instants. It can also group and combine 
these as it will. Real events, as they precede and follow one another, 
may incite to these acts of pure construction ; but the acts and the prod- 
ucts which they excite and suggest are to be referred to the creative 
energy of the imagination. What relations these hold to the distinctions 
of number, will be discussed in the proper place (§ 561). 
in matter, it §348. (2.) In the world of matter, the imagination can create 
combSS ar 5?arts n0 new material, but it can divide and combine the parts of 
and properties. ^ e ma terial things with which it is familiar, so as to form 
new existences. 

The head and trunk of a man it can fit to the shoulders and body of a horse. It can 
form a mermaid — part woman, part fish. It can provide men, women, and children with 
wings, and turn them into angels and cherubs. It can represent any animal with a human 
head. It can add to the head of a man the ears of an ass, and give to another the mouth and 
nose, of a puppy. 

It can connect the part or the whole of any plant with the part or the whole of any animal, 
making a cabbage to sprout from the hump of a camel, or a rose-branch to nod from the head 
of a horse, as we see delineated in some quaint pictures and engravings. 

It can recombine and rearrange the parts of inorganic things as it will, making a rock to 
be balanced upon a roof-ridge, and a bridge to stand dry in a desert. There is no limit to the 
grotesque and fantastic combinations which can be made with the parts and the wholes of 
material objects. 

Though the imagination cannot invent a single new sensible or material quality, it can 
connect such qualities as nature has never combined, making flaming red dogs, bright yellow 
oxen, woolly horses, talking mules, musical jackasses, golden mountains, rivers of wine, ponds 
of beer, and fountains of hot coffee. 

§ 349. (3.) In respect to spiritual beings, the imagination is 
spiritiSii CO beSs8 lifted by similar constraints and invested with a similar 
parts of h matter? freedom. A spirit has no visible or extended parts ; there- 
fore, as a spirit, it cannot be divided and recombined; but 
a spirit may be connected with any kind or form of matter, may be 
imprisoned in trees, may animate a cloud, may dwell in an animal form, or 
" leap like Minerva from the head of Jupiter. ! " 

Not a single new spiritual capacity can be invented or imagined. The 



356 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 351. 

loftiest and the purest of spirit-creations simply feel, desire, and will. 
The humblest and the most degraded can do no less. We cannot invest 
the highest archangel with any endowment other than these. We cannot 
refuse to the lowliest animal some poor analoga to some of these functions 

In respect to the limitations and the conditions of the exercise of the intel 
[magmaiy m- ,...',,., 

tellectual and lect, the imagination has the widest range of creative power. It can con 

SioS nal Cre " ceive tne intenect of a God that creates all that it discerns, and discerns what- 
ever it creates, without condition or process, by an all-penetrating and all-com- 
prehending intuition. It can also imagine the intellect of an idiot, struggling to free itself from 
the gross obstructions of a diseased body, and fixing its painful attention in the first beginnings 
of knowledge. 

In respect of feeling, it can, on the one hand, imagine pure love glowing with the energy 
of seraphic fervor, or simple hatred raging with fiendish malignity ; and, on the other, the 
most imperfect and feeblest actings of either. 

There is no limit to the variety of spiritual beings with which the imaginary world can 
be peopled, nor to the variety of the conditions of being and acting to which they can be 
subjected. The graceful Titania, with her frolicsome and mischief-making fairies ; the hideous 
Caliban, in body and spirit the very contrast of the wonderful Miranda ; Satan and Abdiel ; are 
examples of the variety of spiritual creations which the imagination can construct out of it? 
limited materials. 

8 350. (4.) We have seen that the imagination cannot step 

Products under . , , , -, . , „ , , . , 

thought -re- without the charmed circle ot thought-conceptions ana 
relations. Some of the examples of what it can do withirA 
that circle by newly conjoining attributes of material and spiritual beings, 
have already been given. It cannot conceive of beings, except as sub- 
stances and attributes, but it can join any attribute, of any intensity and 
compass, to any substance. It cannot break them from that connection 
which binds alj. real beings and events as causes and effects ; but it can 
make any existence to serve as the cause of any other as its effect, and 
thus can reverse the whole order of actual being by its capricious and 
fantastic combinations ; or it can enlarge the bounds of science by its 
happy suggestions of undiscovered powers and laws, and the appliances of 
art by applications before unimagiued, of familiar agencies to new results. 
All things in the world of fancy must be conceived as fitted for some end, 
but the adaptations may be imagined as wildly as the caprices of a mad- 
man's dream, or as wisely as the perfect fitness which we believe has been 
arranged by the All-wise God. 

§ 351. With this view before us of the materials to which 
imagination ere- the imagination is limited, and of the products into which 
it transforms them, we are prepared to inquire, third, How 
does the imagination effect these changes; or what is the precise work 
which the imagination performs in its creative function? It might be 
deemed sufficient to reply, The imagination produces or creates these 
products from the materials, and laws of nature ; it does all which is 
necessary to effect these changes : it is enough that the imagination per- 



§ 352. REPRESENTATION. — THE IMAGINATION. 35^ 

forms this work ; it can do all that its creations show it is able to perform ; 
we interpret its function and its capacity by the results produced. Bui 
while this suffices as a general answer, it is fair to ask, more particularly, 
What are the principal differences which we discern between the 
products and the materials from which they are formed, and what 
do we thence infer as to the capacities of the creative power ? We ob- 
serve, in answer to these inquiries, There are three different acts in 
which its creative power is shown. (1.) The imagination can re com 
bine and arrange the constituents of Nature in new forms and products. 
(2.) It can idealize and apply the relations of objects to extension and time. 
(3.) It can form and employ an ideal standard for the intensity and 
the direction of the activity of natural or spiritual agents, and for the 
material objects and acts which symbolize them. We will consider these 
acts in their order. 

1. The combining and arranging office of the imagination. 

§ 352. The examples already cited both prove and illustrate 
arranges parts the fact, that the imagination very largely acts in the way 

of reuniting and rearranging the materials furnished to expe- 
rience, and they also suggest the limitations under which this function can 
be employed. It is obvious, also, that the so-called parts of objects, and 
objects treated as parts, are as minute and numerous as any species of 
analysis can separate. The terms parts and wholes, are, as we have 
already seen, relative, changing with the objects to which they are applied, 
and the special design with which they are used. 

There are sense-parts and sense-wholes, representative-parts and representative-wholes, 
end thought-parts and thought-wholes. A whole, as a building or tree, may be a part of the 
landscape with which it is connected ; while it is still a whole with respect to its doors, win- 
dows, roof, etc., and whatever else makes it quantitatively complete. This is an example of 
r.he sense-wholes and sense-parts. Again, the several properties or relations of the dwelling 
or the tree, its form, dimensions, color, smell, etc., are thought-parts, which can be combined 
into new wholes, by taking away and adding, as we have already seen. If these new wholes 
are individual, they are formed from representation ; if they are generalized, they are the 
work of thought proper, or logical wholes in the larger sense of the word. The synthesis of 
the creative imagination reaches as far and is applied as widely as the analysis of sense and 
thought can go. The imagination may reunite into varying products all that perception and 
consciousness separate or distinguish, and under every one of the relations in which they 
apprehend their objects. These relations are its only limits and laws. 

That the imagination exercises this function of recombination, has been abundantly illustrated in our 
previous examples ; indeed, this is conceded by all writers. The only error or oversight which we notice is, 
of those who limit its office entirely to acts of this kiud. Thus, Hamilton says : " Now, in the first place, 
the terms productive or creative are very improperly applied to imagination, or the representative faculty 
of the mind. It is admitted on all hands that imagination creates nothing— that is, produces nothing new ; 
and the terms in question are, therefore, by the acknowledgment of those who employ them, only 
abusively applied to denote the operations of Fancy, in the new arrangement it makes of the old objects 
furnished to it by the senses." {Met. Lee. xxxiii.) " As to what is called the productive or creative 
imagination, this is dependent for its materials on the senses, and on the reproductive imagination. The 
imagination produces— the imagination creates nothing ; it only rearranges parts, it only builds up old 



358 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 353 

materials into new forms ; and, in reference to this act, it ought therefore to be called, not the productive ol 
creative, hut the plastic." (Lee. XLV., cf. Stewart, p. 1, c. iii. ; c. vii. § 1.) 

So far as this single function is concerned, this may he taken as a correct account of it, 
Limits and laws w ^ a gj^gie qualification. The recombination and rearrangement which the imagina- 
>volved. ^ion performs are purely mental operations, and the products are mental The materials 

taken by it in hand are the mind's representations of actual things, parts of things, of 
the beings of sense and spirit, and their acts and relations. These representations are, in their nature, 
more refined than the realities which they represent. They admit of ideal separations which things will 
not allow. The color cannot be separated from the form, in fact ; assuredly certain colors cannot be parted 
in fact from certain other properties as they can be parted by the imagination. The unions effected by the 
imagination are such as the laws of real being will not allow. The incompatibilities which have been 
referred to, as hindering the combinations of the imagination, are fewer than those which obstruct the 
union of real objects. 

In simple representation, or the literal transcribing of real objects, there is involved some- 
thing of what we call idealization. The simple image, if it should be said perfectly to repro- 
duce the material or mental reality, would give it as an idea, and not as a fact of present 
experience. But in giving it as an idea or image, it always imperfectly represents it. In 
what is called simple representation, there is, therefore, always more or less of creation. No 
single object or event is or can be ever perfectly reproduced in all its properties and relations, 
with a full retention of each and of all in their original intensity. In every such representation 
there is and there must be separation and recombination by the creative imagination, the sepa- 
ration or elimination of those parts which are omitted, and the consequent unition of those, 
and those only, which are retained. Those which are retained are often, if not usually, given 
in proportions and intensities which vary from the original. But the imagination has still 
other capacities of idealization which remain to be explained. We consider 

2. The idealization of the relations of space and time in the creations 
of art, and the constructions of mathematical science. 

8 353. We have already referred to the fact, that the imagi- 

It constructs S . - V, , -, , , 7 

ideals of mathe- nation, in every work 01 art, goes beyond, and outdoes the 
perfection and refinement of nature. The forms which 
sculpture moulds, and which, drawing outlines, are, as we have seen, 
more perfect than any which nature produces. Certainly they are more 
perfect than any which the senses can discern, or which nature can fur- 
nish as models. These constructions cannot be explained by any process 
of analysis, or selection of the parts of real objects, whether this analysis 
is called mental, or is performed by sensible instruments. The lines 
and shapes of grace which have been copied in marble or drawn upon 
canvas, in respect of delicacy of transition and ease of movement, far 
surpass those of any living being or actually existing thing. 

They are suggested by, but are not copied from, any such beings or things 
These products „ * , „ , . ~ . . , , , , ' 

suggested by, The story that the Grecian painter assembled from every quarter the most 

nature Pied fr0m celebrated beauties, that he might borrow some charm from each, and combine 
all together in a perfect work, could never have been true. Stewart, indeed, 
asserts : " Milton would not copy his Eden from any one scene, but would select from each 
the features which were most eminently beautiful. The power of abstraction [analysis] en- 
abled him to make the separation, and taste directed him in the selection. Thus he was fur- 
nished with his materials, by a skilful combination of which he has created a landscape more 
perfect, probably, in all its parts, than was ever realized in nature, etc." (Elements, P. I. c. 
vii. § 1). But this cannot be true, if Stewart refers to the images which were in Milton's own 
mind when he wrote. The separate features or parts of the finest scenes that Milton evei 



§354 KEPRESENTATION. — THE IMAGINATION. 359 

witnessed, were in some respects inferior to those features which he imagines and describes. 
While it is true that nature, in some respects, far outstrips and surpasses what art can do, it 
is true, on the other, that the imagination, in her province, can go far beyond the attainments 
of nature. As we have already said, we even measure nature by some of the achievement*" 
of art. We apply the ideals of the imagination still more frequently to try and to test what 
spiritual achievement furnishes. 

§ 354. We have already noticed those peculiar products 
arithmetical which are employed in mathematical science, and which are 

known as geometrical and numerical quantities. These con- 
structions cannot be produced by any process of separation or combination 
of the parts of material objects. In matter there are no points, lines, 
surfaces, solids, and spheres, such as geometry conceives and reasons of. 
The unequal faces of a material cube, the rough edges formed by two 
adjacent faces of a solid, the obtuse corners in which three adjacent faces 
terminate, are none of them these objects of thought, nor are they wholes 
from which these can be evolved or separated as elements or constituting 
parts. The line is not a part of an edge, nor the surface a part of the 
material face. If they were parts which could be separated by actual 
sense-perception from a whole, they must exist in that whole, or be dis- 
tinguished as one of its material constituents (cf. § 345). 

If it be said that these are distinguished and separated in the mind, that the process of 
analysis or abstraction is mental, it is still true that the mind can only separate what it first 
discerns. These objects cannot be discerned by bodily sense, nor can they be represented by 
simple imagination. They must be created by the mind, for the mind to behold, when the 
mind beholds them. Those writers who, like A. Bain, The Senses and the Intellect, and J. S. 
Mill, Logic, etc., and Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy, make these mathe- 
matical constructions to be apprehended by sense-perception and refined by repeated associations 
and experiences, will find no difficulty in adopting the theory, that the imagination forms 
these constructions by analysis and recombination. The difficulty with their theory is, that it 
does not provide and account for the facts. The senses cannot and do not apprehend these 
objects, neither as wholes, nor as parts of any wholes which they do discern. Nor can asso- 
ciation or experience evolve them ; for these, according to the theory in question, only elabo- 
rate what the senses discern. We are driven to the conclusion, by the very nature of the 
products, that the mind is endowed with the power to create what it seems to separate. 
These products do indeed represent some property or relation of a material object or event, 
and hence such an object or event may serve to bring them distinctly before the eye of the 
mind, as the imperfect material points, lines, and surfaces bring up or suggest their mathe- 
matical relations, but that which the mind imagines is this property or relation in a more refined 
and idealized form than can ever be realized in fact. These refined or idealized objects 
the imagination creates or forms for itself. It may be properly said to construct or to create 
them — first, in individual examples and applications, and then by rapid and easy generaliza- 
tions. An individual point, line, surface, triangle, solid, sphere, are first constructed in 
relation to and by suggestion of a rude material occasion, and this is then generalized by the 
ordinary processes and conceived as resembling every similar creation, so that whatever is 
true of the one, is readily affirmed of all (§ 453). 

What is true of geometrical, is true also of numerical quantity. 
Numbers symbolize the relations of objects contemplated in a series, as 



360 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §356 

constituting a whole, divisible into equal parts. In order to conceive ot 
number, the mind must first view objects in all these relations. But in 
nature, so far as the senses can know, there are no equal parts consti- 
tuting divisible wholes. Whether the ultimate molecules or atoms of mat- 
ter are or are not equal, none such are discerned by the senses. The suc- 
cessive mental states which consciousness observes and by which it first 
apprehends and measures the successive portions of time, are none of 
them observed in actual experience to be equally long or short. All 
these must be idealized in the imagination before they are separated by 
its analysis and combined in its creations. We proceed to 

3. The formation of an ideal standard for psychical acts and states. 
The imagination § 355. The spiritual acts and states of which we are con- 
car Tcts sy and scions, differ from one another in respect to the direction 
which they take — i. e., in respect to the objects on which they 
terminate, and hence to the quality of the affections — as well as in respect 
to the energy or intensity with which they are performed. But none ever 
reach a perfection in either respect which is so complete as can be conceived. 
Whatever or however we know, feel, or choose ; we can conceive it pos- 
sible to surpass what we actually do or experience. What we conceive 
as possible, is not remembered — i. e., represented— from what we have 
known as actual. We rise above and soar beyond the actual in the ideal 
which we imagine. By this we measure the attainments which we have 
in fact achieved. We propose that which is ideally possible as the stand- 
ard which we aspire to make real. 

Such a standard is the work of the creative imagination. It cannot be derived from the 
parts which we observe in ourselves or others, because the parts are no more perfect than 
are the wholes. It follows, then, when we perceive dimly and believe that we might per- 
ceive more clearly, or when we feel warmly or purely, or choose strongly and rightly, and our 
feelings or choices do not satisfy our tastes or our conscience, that we must create for ourselves 
an ideal standard of spiritual achievement. Such a standard, whether it be a standard of taste 
or a standard of duty, is the work of the imagination, that, in connection with and by relation 
to every psychical act which it performs or state which it experiences, is able to conceive of 
that which is more perfect and satisfying in respect to its object and energy. This may not 
be solely the product of the imagination. In the case of the ideal standard of duty, the mind 
believes it to be actually obligatory as well as ideally possible, but in the order of analysis and 
of nature, the imagination acts first of all, the fancy going before the belief or faith. 

§ 356. In respect, also, to the expression of these ideals in 
them by sense- material forms, the imagination creates and applies the ideals 

which it always aims but always fails to reach. Whether 
the medium of expression be language — the language of gestures, of 
looks, of tones, or of articulate speech — or whether it be lines, or color, 
or solid form as employed by the draughtsman, the painter, or the sculp- 
tor, it is all the same. The use which we can make of the medium is 
never so perfect as our ideal of what is possible. As we have noticed 



§ 357. REPRESENTATION. THE IMAGINATION. 361 

already, every such medium, physically regarded, falls short of the 
psychical perfection which we can conceive — i. e., create — in the mind 
When this medium or material is required, not only to set forth an idea* 
of simple outline, form, or color, but to represent another ideal of thought, 
feeling, and passion, then it is found to be doubly true that the ideals which 
the mind can frame, do, both as ideals and as expressed, rise above the 
reality which the voice or hand can execute. Hence it is that the ideal 
excellence of the poet, the orator, the actor, the musician, and the artist, 
are ever higher than his achievements — that the one flees before the other, 
as its shadow, and can never be overtaken. 

The products of § 35 ^* ^ ur analysis of the several processes of the creative 
agination! v wh?t imagination has prepared us more exactly to understand and 
is an ideal? more precisely to define the nature of its products. The 

ideals of science and of art, of achievement and of duty, are, as we have 
seen, the products of that form of psychical activity which is properly 
called the creative imagination. It is imaginative, because the represen- 
tative or imaging power is conspicuously prominent in its functions. It 
is creative, because there is no counterpart in nature from which its ob- 
jects and products are literally transcribed or copied. It is to be observed, 
however, that imaging and images are not the sole elements in these pro- 
cesses or products. The imaging power, as such, is limited to the rep- 
resentation of the objects of actual experience, as wholes and as parts. 
The rational and emotional natures are absolutely essential to its existence 
and its exercise. There is properly no creative imagination in which the 
reason and the feelings are not conspicuous, and in which rational and 
emotional relations are not recognized and controlling. Its creative func- 
tion is rendered possible by the union of the thinking power with the 
imaging power / the joint action of both resulting in these ideal products 
which address the intellectual and emotional nature. 

It is to be observed, again, that the so-called images which 

The ideals are . . . ° ' . . ,. 

not images, but the soul is said to create, are not pictures or transcripts from 
in'iimited reia- any sense-objects, or parts of sense-objects. The ideal line, 
surface, etc., of the mathematician and the artist, have never 
existed in fact. Nor are they parts of real lines or surfaces, refined or 
divided from them by the analyzing or abstracting power. The imagina- 
tion, when it creates, does not picture or image to itself a line without breadth, 
or surface without depth ; such a pictured line or surface are as impossible 
as real lines and surfaces would be. What, then, does the imagination 
perform when it creates its so-called ideal surface and line ? It pictures 
or images a line with actual breadth and a surface with actual thickness, 
and contemplates them in certain relations to that space, which is the con- 
dition of their existence and of their being conceived as realities. The 
power to isolate this single relation — one or more — of the thing or its 
image, is that which enables the imagination to create the ideal line and 



362 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §357 

surface. But the power to know space as a condition of extended matter, 
and to apprehend existing or imaged beings as holding relations to space, 
and to isolate one of these space-relations, is attained only when the mind 
has been developed by the generalizations of thought. The ideals of the 
mathematical imagination are only possible to the imagination when it has 
been disciplined by thought. One chalk or pencil line is narrower than an- 
other, one of the laminae of mica is thinner than another. As we divide these 
lines and cleave off these laminae, we seem to approximate to the ideal line 
and the ideal surface, simply because the senses and the imagination are 
less distracted and occupied with sense or imaged properties. The imagi- 
nation selects, therefore, the line or surface whose thickness is least ob- 
vious to the senses, to suggest or represent the sole relation to space with 
which the intellect is for the moment concerned ; or, which is even more 
satisfactory, it takes for a point an object whose dimensions are the 
smallest discernible to the senses or picturable to the imagination, and 
considers it simply as moved or movable directly to another point like 
itself, and thus constructs in the imagination the mathematical line. That 
is, it begins with an object or an image as far removed from sense as pos- 
sible, and uses it so as to suggest the various relations which extended matter 
holds to space ; or, to speak more exactly, to other matter extended in 
space. By the imagined motion of this line, it proceeds in a similar way 
to construct the surface, etc., etc. The nature of the act and the char- 
acter of the product, in all these cases, depend on the intellectual appre- 
hension of the relations of material — i, e., of extended objects, to space. 
The approximation of the actual to the ideal line and surface, consists 
in the more facile suggestion of the relations in question, by means of 
one rather than the other. 

The ideal of the artist depends on the relations of outline, 

The ideals of the „ . , . , . 

artist ; and in- form, color, etc., etc., to aesthetic pleasure ; whatever may 
be its sources and kinds. He brings the lines, the model, 
the picture, as nearly as his materials and skill will allow to a condition 
in which there shall be no drawbacks to the pleasure and effect which are 
sought for. As long as a single distracting or inconsistent feature or 
property is prominent, so long is his ideal unreached. As this will 
always be the case from defect of materials or defect of skill, so long 
will it be true that he can never make his work absolutely perfect, 
and that his ideal of what he imagines might be possible, will never be 
reached. 

The ideal of the inventor is some agent, or combination of agencies, 
that are freed from the limitations which pertain to ordinary machines or 
instruments. These he illustrates to himself by fondly and sometimes obsti- 
nately conceiving of his model only in those relations of adaptation and 
capacity which he knows it to possess, and overlooking or denying other 
limitations to which it is liable. 



§358. EEPEESENTATIO^. THE IMAGINATION. 363 

The ideals of psychical and moral attainment suffer undei 
ShicaiTdeais? nd limitations of another sort. With certain powers given in 
the actual, capable of results which are in fact achieved, and 
of good that is in fact enjoyed, we fix our attention solely upon the single 
capacity in question, without regard to the limitations which in fact inter- 
fere with its achievements. By selecting the most satisfying example 
of the actual which we can find, we fix our attention upon those relations 
which we desire to contemplate, and withdraw our attention from its de- 
fects and hmitations, till it stands before our mind as an ideal example 
of the psychical power or the moral excellence which we wish exclusively 
to contemplate. 

If the ideal excellence is contemplated as an attainable end of our 
being, or is enforced by the authority of conscience or the will of the 
Supreme, then that which was a conceivable ideal is viewed in still other 
relations. It is accepted as real : that which was an ideal of the imagination 
is believed to be a fact. But whether these ideals do or do not represent 
realities, the process by which they are created into psychical products, and 
the products created, obey the same psychological laws and involve the 
same psychological relations. 

The result of this analysis is but another illustration of the interde- 
pendence of all the powers upon one another, and especially of the higher 
functions of the imagination upon thought and reason. It enforces and 
explains the near affinity of the imaging with the thought-power. It also 
indicates the advantage which language and music may have over paint- 
ing and sculpture in expressing and suggesting what color and form can 
not convey (cf. § 365). 

ideals founded § 358 - These truths also enable us to understand and explain 
^di^du?i a e lpe- no ^ i* happens that all ideas, however refined and elevated, 
rience - are in some sense founded upon and related to the actual 

experience of each individual. A person born and nurtured upon a plain, 
who had never seen a hill or a mountain, can scarcely imagine the charm 
to the eye and the excitement to the mind which such scenery imparts, 
and would be quite incapable of creating ideal pictures suggested by such 
materials, or even of appreciating them when framed by others. One 
who has never been upon the sea, can neither picture to himself, nor fo 
others, the wild sublimity of an ocean tempest. The Oriental, basking in 
the heat of an equatorial sun, and always surrounded by the fruits, the 
foliage, and the flowers that such a sun alone can nourish, cannot form an 
ideal picture of an arctic winter. Nor can the Scandinavian, out of the 
pale sunlight of his brightest days, or the most luxuriant vegetation of 
his starveling summer, construct an adequate representation of the exube- 
rant life, and the glowing intensity of a tropical landscape. 

The actual life of every painter and every poet, in the materials which it furnishes, must 
largely determine the direction and characteristics of his imaginative power. From the 



364 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §359 

writings of Dante, of Milton, of Scott, and of Bunyan, as well as from the pictures of Raphael 
and Murillo, of Gainsborough and Wilkie, one can easily conclude as to the place of their birth, 
the kind of education which they received from the books, and men, and scenery with which 
they were conversant. Not more decisively does a Japanese or Chinese drawing reveal its 
nationality, than do the workings and the works of the. imagination enable us to interpret the 
experience and observation out of which this imagination has grown. The ideal world of 
every great artist, however high it may tower, or however largely it may partake of the 
gorgeousness of cloud-land, must be built of the idealized materials of his actual life and 
history. 

The imagination § 359 - I* follows that the imagination is capable of steady 
growth and ^ui- growth, and requires constant cultivation. The creative 
ture - imagination, when most gifted, can at first only rise to a 

certain height above the materials which its experience gives. Its suc- 
ceeding essays are founded upon those which have been made before, and 
it proceeds by successive steps, more or less long and high, till it attains 
the most consummate achievements that are ever reached by man. That 
there is a striking diversity of original endowment, cannot be doubted ; 
but that this is the common law of the development of this power, can- 
not be denied. It is shown to be clearly true from the nature of the 
power itself, as well as from the history of those who have been most dis- 
tinguished for their achievements in poetry, fiction, and art. 

This training and growth are not, however, occasional, but constant ; they 
accompanies all are not the results of separate efforts, which are consciously directed to some 
acts P s y cmcal definite ends of creation, but are the consequents of an activity which is 

spontaneous, irrepressible, and often excessive. No impression can be more 
untrue than that the ordinary activities of this power are simply to represent and transcribe, 
while it is by occasional sallies that it idealizes and creates. On the other hand, it will be 
found to be true, that, even in its apparent transcriptions and its most faithful and vigorous 
efforts to recall and reproduce, the creative activity is ever ready to intrude. In the person 
who is distinguished as idealistic or imaginative, the creative power is always active, and often 
overbears and displaces the clear insight, the fixed attention, the calm and patient reflection, 
which are required to apprehend and recall the actual with literal accuracy. Indeed, in all 
minds the creative imagination mingles more or less prominently with the other mental 
operations, always modifying and sometimes greatly disturbing the acting of these powers and 
their results. In sense-perception, the imagination too often selects for itself what it will see 
or hear, and brings a report accordingly of what it thinks it has seen and heard. After 
the desires are grown strong and the character is fixed, the shaping spirit of the imagination 
enters largely into the perceptions as a modifying influence. In the observations of conscious- 
ness, and the reports which it records of what it has seemed only to observe, the same influence 
and the same effects may be traced of its creative energy. The observation and the record 
are both disturbed by the power to notice what we are anxious to find, and to leave unobserved 
or to imagine that we cannot see, what we do not wish to find to be true. In the act of re- 
calling for ourselves or communicating to others, what we may have actually observed or 
experienced (even supposing the original observation to have been correctly made), the creative 
imagination often intrudes, consciously or unconsciously, biassed by the desire to please our- 
selves or our fellow-men. The frequent and strange untrustworthiness of the memory, can be 
accounted for only by the selecting or idealizing activity of the imagination, when it seems to 
be simply recalling the actual past. Inasmuch as the thought-power, in its various acts of 



§361. REPRESENTATION. — THE IMAGINATION. 365 

reaching general conceptions and conclusions, chiefly depends on the fidelity of the representa 
tive power in reproducing the actual ; whenever it creates instead of recalling, all the result! 
of thinking must be disturbed. In this way the imagination may and does enter very largely 
into the acts of generalization, inference, and deduction ; disturbing and misleading all. 

§ 360. More generally we may say, this creative power is developed at the 
from the earliest earliest period of our existence, and is busy in all ages and conditions of our 

till the latest human life. Childhood, in some of its aspects, is the most literal and the 
periods of life. , _ ,. , , ' . . . „ , . 

most observant of reality ; yet even then the shaping activity of the imagina- 
tion is always busy, filling the real world with another world of fancies and dreams. The most 
trivial and unsuitable objects are sufficient to excite its action. The rude and unfinished toy 
is more acceptable to the child than the more costly and elaborate, because it leaves more room 
for the constructive power. If it furnishes resemblances enough to act as points of support 
to stay and steady the imagination, it is all the better if the greater part of the work is left 
for this to complete and supply. The sports and plays of childhood are little romances, 
prompted and acted over for the simple exercise and delight of the imagination. In later 
years the imagination is ever busy, not only in the occasions which are set apart for the 
exercise of its functions, but quite as much at times when the mind seems to be intent only 
on real objects, and engrossed with what are termed its ordinary and practical avocations. 
The interest which each man takes in the position in life which he holds or aspires after ; is* 
his employments, his friends, and associates ; or the dislike and disgust which he conceives fo;' 
each and for all, arises from the ideal lights with which the imagination invests them. Tho 
eye of the painter looks every landscape into a picture, and idealizes every face that it beholds ; 
the lover " sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt ; " the day dreamer and the lunatio 
convert actual realities into visions, or visions into realities ; the poet is, by the very appellai 
tion, recognized as a creator of beings that have not existed before. 

Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, 

Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend 

More than cool reason ever comprehends. 

The lunatic, the lover, and the poet 

Are of imagination all compact. 

One sees more devils than vast hell can hold — 

That is the madman : the lover, all as frantic, 

Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt : 

The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, 

Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, 

And, as imagination bodies forth 

The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 

Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing 

A local habitation and a name. 

Midsummcr-NighVs Dream. Act v. 

§ 361. We may almost say that Nature herself is imaginative, or at least that 
N tu e educates ^y some of her aspects she prompts and quickens the training of the imagina- 
the imagination, tion. When she softens the distance by her interposed atmosphere, or 

gives unreal and picturesque effects by her wizard mists, when she gilds the 
horizon with the unnatural lights of the breaking morning, or enwraps it in the glorious pomp 
of a splendid sunset, she institutes contrasts which cannot but be noticed between a scene in 
its common aspects and every day garments, and the same when it puts on ideal appearances 
and wears its holiday attire. 

This constant activity of the creative power explains its rapid growth, and its development 
into the capacity for sudden and surprising achievements. This education must, from the 
necessity of the case, be in great measure a self-education ; it must be confined to the indi- 
vidual himself, and be conducted by processes that can be watched by no eye but his own, and 
issue in products that are known only to himself. There is no part of the mind's activity, 
also, of which it is so shy to communicate. Its secret ideals, its private romances, its vague 



366 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §363. 

and aimless reveries, its fond imaginings, its aspiring and audacious dreamings, are guarded 
with the most jealous care. And yet, upon these concealed activities every man expends a 
large portion of his active energy. 

Th d t a § 362, When an occasion calls for the manifestation of the power thus 
imagination trained and matured, it acts as by the force and with the promptness and 
igencies which precision of apparent inspiration. Whether the exigency be that of the 
call it forth. artist, the poet, or the inventor, the creative power formed by the ceaseless 

activity of years meets its requirements from the resources that it has been gradually providing. 
These resources may consist in part of the countless creations which it has shaped in connec- 
tion with its perceptions and reveries, and which are again summoned back by the memory 
when first these images are needed. In such a case the imagination does not so much create 
anew, as fall back upon the unknown and unnoticed store of its previous idealizings. As the 
painter, when called to compose a landscape, can supply some needed feature by recalling 
a study which his pencil had previously sketched at the sight of some suggestive object, 
so the writer in the excitement of composition, or the speaker in a burst of unpremeditated 
eloquence, can avail himself of a striking figure that was originally suggested in a calmer 
mood — not composing so much as recalling. Or, the resources brought to the exigency may 
be the dexterity which has been acquired by use, and which dexterity consists in the power 
of so controlling the associating power that it shall yield the very materials which are wanted 
for the imagination to work upon, and in having so matured the creating power that as soon 
as it knows what it needs, it can create out of these materials the ideal which it requires. 

In no other way can we explain the rapidity, the precision, and the success with which the 
constructing and inventing power seems to act when it is tasked to its utmost energy and 
produces its finest results. So startling is this energy even to its possessor, so ample are its 
resources, and so wonderful are its products under the excitement of strong feeling or deter- 
mined motives, that its workings are more fitly compared to inspiration than those of any 
other endowment of the soul. But the rapidity and force of the unconscious actings of the 
soul in all its functions are phenomena which never cease to surprise and astonish us. We 
are now prepared to understand the 

/Special applications of the imagination. — (a.) TJie poetic imagination. 
The imagination § 363. The fact has been noticed, that the creative imagina- 
moaSed by d the ti° n ^ present by its actings with all the other powers of the 
other powers. gou ^ and determines the character of their products. We 
have also seen, in our analysis of ideals, that the converse is also true. 
All these powers are present in varied proportions and energies in those 
activities which are recognized as the acts of the im agination, and give a 
varied character to what are called its products, whether they appear in 
the form of poetry, fiction, the fine arts, or philosophy. 

Of these, the poetic imagination is the most interesting, and 
aginaSon. ic im ~ invites to a special analysis. Poetry may be defined, that 
use of the creative power which is employed for the gratifi- 
cation of the emotional nature in the production of pictures more or less 
elevating in their associations, which are fixed and expressed by means 
of rhythmical language. When the ends are for mere amusement, and 
the associations under which they are present, and the emotions which they 
excite, are not especially ennobling, the poetic imagination is, in the 
language of later critics, called the fancy. When the aims are higher 
than simple gratification, and therefore involve more elevated associations 



§363. ft REPRESENTATION. — THE IMAGINATION. 367 

and feelings, it is dignified as the imagination by eminence, or the 
imagination. The adjective imaginative follows very closely this higher 
sense of the word. 

The sources from which the poetic power derives its materials are as mi- 
The sources or merous and extensive as the universe of matter and of spirit, and yet but few 
poetry. 11 of these materials subserve the proper aims of the poet. While the poet 

may lawfully appropriate truth of every kind, provided it serves his purpose, 
yet it is preeminently that truth which holds or may be made to assume some relation to man 
which is of use in poetry. Mere pictures, as pictures, however varied and beautiful they may 
be, scarcely become poetic even for the fancy, unless some human interest or relation belongs 
or is imparted to them. The incidents of human life, or the feelings of the human soul, must 
somehow enter into the scene, or the truly poetic interest is wanting. 

This human truth, which these pictures suggest, illustrate, or enforce, must 

„ _ . , be that which is within the comprehension and reach of all men. It is not 
Preeminent- c 

ly human truth, the truth of the schools, nor of any special and limited society, nor that 
which is capable of being conveyed in abstract or technical words or under- 
stood by a select few after a special training, but it is the truth which is open and intelligible 
to all men (upon certain impliedly and easily recognized conditions). This is the first of the 
three characteristics which are recognized by Milton in his brief description of poetry as 
" simple, sensuous, and passionate." 

Poetry should indeed be simple, because its products are designed for the use 
Poetry sim- of all men; and its images, thoughts, and words should be easily compre- 
and passionatef ' hended by all who have attained certain advantages of culture, and have been 
trained to a certain degree of thought and feeling. It should also be sensuous 
— that is, it deals with images, not with generalized and scholastic language. It presents 
pictures to the mind's eye, not refined and subtle reasonings to the thought-powers. It introduces 
action into every scene. It is eminently concrete and picturesque. It should also be passion- 
ate — i. e., its simple and pictured truth should come from a soul that is animated by warm and 
elevated emotions. The presence of feeling as a requisite of all that composition which is 
called imaginative, is not always recognized so distinctly as it deserves to be. Without feeling, 
And, in general, without feeling of a higher kind, the mere power to create is of little 
worth, and its results are of little interest. Indeed, without it the power will not be so matured 
into a predominant energy, or be so regulated, as to become a ready instrument at the service of 
its possessor. But with it, the creation of the kind of pictures in which the emotions delight, 
becomes a pastime and an occupation, and poetry is to the poet its own "exceeding great 
reward." Inasmuch as only the higher emotions act with a steady and intellectual pressure in 
the refined occupation of poetic culture and composition, the images which association presents 
and the imagination detains and reconstructs, are of an elevated character ; they assume the 
lofty and ennobling character of ideals in the better sense of the word. Hence it becomes 
so generally true that poetry is almost necessarily elevating in its nature and influence. 
Hence it has been held to have something in it that was divine. 

" Therefore, because the acts or wants of true history have not that magnitude which satisfieth the 
mind of man, poesy feigneth acts and events greater and more heroical ; because true history propoundeth 
the successes and issues of actions, not so agreeable to the merits of virtue and vice, therefore poesy feigns 
them more just in. retribution, and more according to revealed Providence ; because true history repre- 
senteth actions and events more ordinary and less interchanged, therefore poesy indueth them with more 
rareness, and more unexpected and alternative variations ; so it appeareth that poesy serveth and con- 
formeth to magnanimity, morality, and to delectation. And therefore it was ever thought to have some 
participation of divineness, because it doth raise and erect the mind, by submitting the shows of things to 
the desires of the mind ; whereas, reason doth buckle and bow the mind unto the nature of things. And 
we 6ee that by these insinuations and congruities with man's nature and pleasure, joined also with the 
agreement and concert it hath with music, it hath had access and estimation in rude times and barbarous 
regions, when other learning stood excluded.^ (Lord Bacon, Advancement of Learning, B. ii.) 



368 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 364 

The poetic imagination, in its higher forms, is often described as a fusing and 
Poetry, in its unifying power. It subjects all its materials to single and commanding objects. 
uiUtesand fuses! I fc un i tes an d blends them under the overmastering power of some controlling 

passion or commanding purpose. It fills up the field of view with images 
appropriate to its thoughts and feelings, everywhere seeking and everywhere finding something 
relating to its controlling sentiment or purpose. It turns inanimate things into living beings. 
It invests them with the attributes, and imparts to them the feelings which are congenial to the 
thoughts and aims which are all-engrossing to itself. These phenomena are not characteristic 
of the poetic imagination as an image-making power, but are to be ascribed to that peculiar 
elevation of feeling and consequent quickening of the intellect which enters so largely into 
poetic genius, and which prompts to its creative power. 

When the image-making power simply plays or sports with images for their 
In its lower, it picturesque effects and the amusement which they give — when its ends are 
scatters? 3 an amusement or illustration only, it is called the fancy, which abounds in images, 

indeed, but lacks the loftier attributes of the higher imagination. Pancy 
scatters and relaxes the attention, rather than concentrates and holds it. It pleases rather than 
elevates ; it relaxes and weakens rather than gives tone and energy. It passively submits to the 
disposal of the objects which surround it, rather than disposes them at its will, and subjects 
them to its control. It is borne hither and thither at the capricious suggestions of the 
objective world ; the imagination by the force of its strong emotions subjects these objects 
to itself, and makes them seem to be what it wills. 

It is peculiar to the poetic imagination that .language is its medium. It is not 
Its medium is essential that this language should be metrical ; though a rhythmic move- 
language, ment, and the regular return of similar syllables in measured accent heighten 

greatly its effects. The poetic power is also shared by the novelist, the 
dramatist, and the orator. But poetry must always employ language, and in this respect it 
essentially differs from painting, sculpture, and even music. Painting and sculpture create images 
indeed, but they fix them permanently upon the canvas or embody them in marble. But 
poetry can only suggest them by words ; it portrays its images only, as by words it wakens in 
the imagination of another images similar to those which the poet himself conceives. If the 
imagination that receives is feeble, slow, and perverse, it is in vain that the poet tries to excite 
it to follow his lead. But if it is strong, quick, and sympathizing, it may be aroused by the 
words of the poet to finer creations than even the poet himself has known. The suggestive 
power of words gives to the poet a marvellous advantage in the greater breadth of his field and 
the variety of his effects. The painter and sculptor apparently present all their work to the eye. 
It is true that this work is better appreciated by one eye than another. In one sense it takes 
an artist to interpret an artist ; but even with this allowance, the range of the indications is 
narrow, and the possibility of manifold suggestions is limited. But words have a capacity to 
suggest more than they directly convey, and hence to take up into their import a multitude 
of pictures according to the variety of uses to which they are applied. The word whose 
literal import is prosaic, trivial, or mean, when used by genius in a new application, becomes 
poetic, picturesque, and elevating. The material which in common use is cold, conventional, 
and dry, has power, by dexterous combinations, to awaken delightful imagery, and to kindle 
exalted associations. In this way language itself becomes permanently enriched and elevated 
by the fact that it has been employed by men of poetic genius. 

(b.) The philosophic imagination. 
Relations of the § 364 - 1^ e relation of the imagination to thought has been 
tKgnfand sci- tne subject of much discussion, and has given rise to no 
cnce - little diversity of opinion. Many have contended that its 

influence is unfavorable to the operations of the intellect in the discovery 



§365. REPKESENTATTON. — THE IMAGINATION. 369 

of truth ; that it distracts the attention, Masses and misleads the judg- 
ment, and disqualifies for any of the reasoning processes. On the other 
hand, the fact is undisputed that the men who have been most distin- 
guished in philosophy, especially as discoverers or inventors, have been 
remarkable for reach and glow of imagination. Indeed, we may safely 
say that in the history of speculation and science not a man can be found 
who was distinguished for philosophic genius who did not possess an 
active and a glowing imagination, and whose imagination did not render 
essential service in the operations of thought. Striking examples of the 
combination of the poetic imagination with eminent philosophical genius are 
numerous. We name Plato, Kepler, Galileo, Bacon, Newton, Leibnitz, 
Davy, Owen, Faraday, and Agassiz. A moment's reflection will show 
that this must necessarily be true. The objects of present observation 
must always be limited in number. They must reappear in the form of 
representations. The facts with which the philosopher has to do must 
come to him in the form of images, when he would discern their various 
relations and subject them to the processes of thought. It is important 
that these should be readily presented. This can only happen when the 
associative power is wide in its range of relations, and quick in its action. 
These qualities almost invariably accompany, if they do not necessarily 
involve, great energy of the creative power. 

But whatever may be thought of the relations of a vivid 

Relations to in- . . ° . . . , _ 

vention and dis- imagination to the memory, as iurnisning the materials tor 

covers 

the philosopher, there can be no question that to invention 
it is entirely essential ; indeed, that, without an active imagination, 
philosophic invention and discovery are impossible. To invent or discover, 
is always to recombine. It is to adjust in new positions, objects or parts 
of objects which have never been so connected before. The discoverer 
of a new solution for a problem, or a new*lemonstration for a theorem in 
mathematics, the inventor of a new application of a power of nature 
already known, or the discoverer of a power not previously dreamed of, 
the discoverer of a new argument to prove or deduce a truth or of a new 
induction from facts already accepted, the man who evolves a new principle 
or a new definition in moral or political science — must all analyze and re- 
combine in the mind things, acts, or events, with their relations, in 
positions in which they have never been previously observed or thought 
of. This recombination is purely mental. If there be a discovery or inven- 
tion, there has never before been such a juxtaposition of the materials 
nor of their parts in the world of fact or in the thoughts of men. These 
objects and parts are now for the first time brought together in the mind 
— i. e,, the imagination of the discoverer. Every discovery is, in fact, a 
work of the creative imagination. 

It is true the power of thought must attend the operation. Unless the representations and' 
combinations are made and regulated with reference to the ends of thought, they will be 
24 



370 THE HUMAN INTELLECT § 365. 

made in vain. But the range of these pictured objects must be wide ; every one of them 
must be vividly conceived, that all the attributes, and analogies, and relations may come before 
the eye of the mind. The more vividly this presentation is made, provided the processes 
of analysis and comparison go on with equal energy, the wider is the field of discovery and 
the greater is the chance of success. We have already observed that there are as many forms 
of memory as there are distinguishable types of mental activity ; that whatever the mind is 
apt and active to apprehend, it must necessarily be quick and faithful to reproduce. By the 
same rule, whatever be its power to analyze and recombine, it must be able with the greater 
facility, to imagine as analyzed and readjusted, the imagination following the measure of the 
mind's presentative power. There are as many forms of imagination as there are forms of 
creation or invention. "Whatever the mind can part and unite with the original object before 
itself, it can also separate and combine with greater advantage when it is recalled as an image. 
The world of images is also far more plastic than the world of reality. Its materials come 
and go more quickly than real objects. More can be crowded at once into the field of view. 
The mental analysis and synthesis required, can be more rapidly performed upon the shadows 
which the mind summons to its service, than upon the things which it can slowly call up and 
slowly survey. 
ti^ ™ +•„ i But there are special reasons why the peculiar type of the imagination which 

1 116 p G 1 1C3.1 

and philosophi- the poet requires is closely allied to that which gives genius to the philoso- 
nearly allied. pher. To the higher imagination, as required by poets and orators, there is 

always requisite the power to interpret the indications or analogies of the 
beings and phenomena which they observe. The resemblances which the imagination is quick 
to notice and to apply to the ends of metaphor and passion, are more or less nearly allied to 
those powers and laws which philosophy seeks to develop and establish. Every poetic 
metaphor that is worthy to be so called, is founded on some truth of reason, and serves to 
indicate some power or law. The intensity of interest that fixes and holds the mind in the 
patient attention of the philosopher is closely allied to that strongly absorbed and controlling 
enthusiasm which holds the poet to the images which his fancy summons or creates. Both 
dwell in such a world with an enthusiasm which is not easily understood by others. That 
which maintains the interest of each, is the passion of each for the image-world which he re- 
creates. That which gives to each his mastery over this world, is the familiarity which results 
from long-continued practice in calling up its objects and in moulding them at his will. Such 
a mastery, arising from such a continuity of effort, can only be attained by that passionate 
interest which is the secret of genius, whfther genius labors for the ends of scientific or poetic 
truth ; whether the end for which it labors is the truth of science that addresses the in- 
tellect, or the truth of feeling which controls the heart. 

The objection will still be urged, that the exuberant and passionate imagina- 
Objections to tion ma y> °y the attractiveness of the imagery which it creates, withdraw the 
this view. mind from the soberness of scientific truth ; that what might be gained in 

the abundance of material and the vivacity with which it is brought before 
the mind, is more than counterbalanced by the distracting and bewildering influences which 
follow. Or at least it will be said, the poetic imagination will fill the mind with delusive 
phantasms in the form of attractive theories, and forbid it to judge of its theories by the 
dry and severe light of reason. There may be danger here ; but, on the other hand, where 
the imagination is poor and the analogies are few, the mind is narrow, prejudiced, and obsti- 
nate. The abstractions of science are personified into essential beings and actual powers. If 
the imagination tempts to excessive theorizing, it also precludes and prevents it, by the vivid 
sense of reality which it inspires, by the strong desire to illustrate and exemplify by some 
pertinent fact of appropriate instance, and by the readiness with which, from its abundant 
resources, it can bring them forth for all its occasions. There is no danger to science so 
serious and constant as that from an overweening tendency to abstraction, which fills the 
intellectual world with artificial hypostases that have no ground in reality, and become the 






§367. REPRESENTATION, — THE IMAGINATION. 371 

idols of their originator, and those who constitute his school. Against this tendency there it 
no correction so effectual as the honest and hearty realism of a vivid, active, and fertile im- 
agination, when employed in the service of truth. 

§ 366. In the communication of scientific truth there can 

In communica- " . , „....„ 

ting philosophic be no question that a large measure of imagination is of 
essential service. He that would amply illustrate, power- 
fully defend, or effectively enforce the principles and truths of science, is 
greatly aided by a brilliant imagination. This, of all other gifts, delivers 
him from that tendency to the dry and abstract, to the general and the 
remote, to which the expounder of science is continually exposed from his 
familiarity with principles which are strange to his pupils and readers, and 
which need to be continually explained and illustrated by fresh and various 
examples. The philosophic writer or teacher who is gifted with imagina- 
tion is more likely to be clear in statement, ample in illustration, pertinent 
in his application and exciting in his enforcement of the truths with which 
his science is conversant, whatever may be the subject-matter with which 
the science is concerned. 

(c.) The ethical imagination. 

§ 367. The practical or ethical uses of the imagination are 
of the imagma- numerous and elevated. These are sufficiently obvious from 
the single consideration, that the law of duty is and must be 
an ideal law : for whether it is or is not fulfilled, it must precede the act 
which reaches or falls short of itself. Every ethical rule must be a men- 
tal creation, an ideal formed by the creative power, and held before the 
soul as a guide and law. Asserting, as we do, that this law, in general, 
is the same in its import for all men — so that, in a certain sense, the im- 
agination of every one must create the same general ideal rule, it remains 
true that the practical ideal of every one is peculiar to himself, and shared 
by no other person. This ideal, so far as the particulars of his character 
and life are concerned, may vary both in its import and in the vividness 
with which this import is conceived. What each man may become in 
this and that respect, in wealth, position, knowledge, power, etc., is the 
romantic ideal of youth and the pleasant dream of later years. The 
aspirations of endeavor, the visions of hope, and the romances of .pure 
reverie which express more than we dare aspire after or hope to effect, 
are obviously the work of the creative imagination. If these are con- 
formed to a just ideal of life and character, they are most elevating in 
their influence. If they are consistent with the conditions of our human 
nature and our human life, if they are conformed to the physical and moral 
laws of our nature, and the government and will of God, they are healthful 
and ennobling. Such ideals can scarcely be too high, or too ardently and 
steadfastly adhered to. But if they are false in their theory of life and 
happiness, if they are untrue to the conditions of our actual existence, if 
they involve the disappointment of our hopes, and discontent with real 



372 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 36 J 

life, they are the bane of all enjoyment, and fatal to true happiness. The 
brief excitement which these unreal dreams occasion, however highly 
wrought this excitement may be, is a poor offset to the painful contrasts 
•vhich they necessarily involve. 

It is not what we actually attain or possess that makes us happy or wretched, 
Relation of but what we think is essential, or possible, or just for ourselves to attain 
happiness. The ideal standard for ourselves by which we measure our attainments in all 

these respects, is that which has the most to do with satisfaction or discon- 
tent. It is of little consequence what a man has, if he imagines that he must have some- 
thing more in order to be truly happy. He cannot be content if this is wanting ; if he 
dreams that something more is justly his due, his discontent will be aggravated with a sens* 
of injustice from his friends or his fellow-men ; from society, from nature, or from God. If his 
ideal is rational and just, still more if his theory of life teaches him to find satisfaction in 
those sources of good which are open to all, in occupation, in worthy pleasures, and in the 
exercise and interchange of the social and kind affections, he cannot easily be robbed of con- 
tent and happiness. If his ideal contemplates self-sacrifice, suffering, and evil, as possible 
conditions of good, he will be still more secure of a happy life. If it reaches forward to 
another scene of existence, and brings before him the blessedness of a character perfected by 
suffering and made fit for the purest and noblest society conceivable, his happiness on eartb 
may even be augmented by disappointment, sorrow, and pain. 

If, on the other hand, these ideals are factitious or unreasonable, they become the sourc* 
of constant wretchedness. If a man to be happy, must be as rich or as fashionable, as ^uc 
cessful or as accomplished as he dreams of, all his actual enjoyments pass for little or nothing 
till his ideal desires are gratified. These are the standard by which he measures his good. 
Without reaching this standard, he cannot be satisfied. While, on the other hand, the man 
who never aspires can never rise ; while even romantic hopes and wishes have much that is 
quickening and elevating in their influence, it is equally essential that all ideals of happiness 
should be conformed to truth, and should propose objects that are approved of conscience, 
of the ordinances of nature, and the will of God. 

§ 368. These ideals of life and happiness must involve a 

Ideals of life ° . . , , ^ x 

necessarily etM- more or less positively ethical character. We cannot im- 
agine what we are to be and to become in fortune and 
success, without including more or less distinctly what we ought to be in 
character and to perform in action. Even if our general ideal be con- 
formed to the law of duty, our imagination in particular of what a 
virtuous man should be in feeling and in action, may be very imperfect, or 
even very false. It may overlook many real excellencies, and tolerate many 
defects, through ignorance, false education, and corrupt public opinion, 
or our own vicious tastes and inclinations. We may, in our imaginations, 
fall far below the elevation of a just ideal of what a man should be, to be 
courteous, self-sacrificing, patriotic, friendly, hospitable, gentlemanly, or 
even honest, veracious, and upright. But whatever these ideals are, 
whether they are false or true, elevated or low, they will be certain to exert 
a most healthful or a most baneful influence upon the character. They fur- 
nish a standard that is constantly present, and constantly active to lift us 
upward or to drag us downward. Hence, in a certain sense, what a man 
aspires to become, has ethically already decided what he is. His aims and 






§ 369. EEPRESENTATION. — THE IMAGINATION. 373 

standard are the reflex of his wishes and his will, as well as the assurance 
of what he can achieve in the future. 

The ideal standard of duty may be constantly corrected and improved. From 

Weals of duty n j s own experience of the effects of acts or habits, or his observation of these 

may be changed r . 

and improved. effects in others, a man may supply what he has omitted to observe, or correct 

that in which he has erred, and so advance to a higher and more perfect rule 

of feeling, of manners, and of life. In this way a community may rise or sink, may advance 

or go backward. Every man, by his good life, by the realization of what is good in himself, 

and his more perfect manifestation of it in all appropriate and beautiful acts, may advance the 

ideals of others. The contemplation of fictitious characters, elevated and ennobled by ideal 

beauty, serves to quicken and enforce the ethical ideal of thousands of susceptible minds. The 

poet, the novelist, and the dramatist, quicken the fervor, and instruct the minds, and elevate 

the tastes of their readers. The ideals of a community or of a man, both express and form 

its ethical life, whether for evil or for good. 

(d.) Imagination and religious faith. 

§ 369. The relation of the imagination to religious faith is 
imagination to interesting and important. The objects of our faith, by 
their very definition, have never been subjected to direct or 
intuitive knowledge. Neither sense-perception nor self-consciousness, have 
confronted them directly or brought report of them. And yet the imagi- 
nation pictures these objects as real and most important. What are the 
materials which it parts and reunites ? Whence the suggestions which it 
idealizes into more refined and spiritual essences ? By what authority 
does it invest these creations with verisimilitude and impose them upon 
the assent of the intellect, as representing the most real and important 
of all truths ? What analogies are there between the finite and the infi- 
nite which authorize the imagination to use the one to symbolize the 
other, and justify its faith in its own symbolic creations ? 
We must im- ^ tne Divine Being — of self-existence, of unlimited power 
ilirevri/spirit- an< ^ knowledge, of creative and preserving energy, of fore- 
nai facts. cast an( j providence, we have no direct experience. All our 

direct apprehensions of spiritual attributes and relations are of the limited 
only. It is by the limited that we reach the unlimited even in thought. 

Conceding that we can conceive the infinite, can we also image our 
concepts? (§ 427.) We cannot. The sphere of the imagination is only 
the finite. All the pictures which it can construct are of limited objects. 
It is by means only of such pictures that it can image its concepts of the 
infinite, if it attempts to image them at all. That it attempts thus to 
image them, is evident. That it can adequately picture them, no man be- 
lieves. What is embraced in the concept is the known likeness between 
the finite and infinite. What is pictured by the image, is some limited 
example of the thought-relation which the image suggests. These pictures 
may be increased in number, extent, or energy, but this is all. 

Existence, power, knowledge, origination, foresight ; — all these we 
say and believe are both finite and infinite. They are in some sense familiar 



374 THE , HUMAN INTELLECT. § 370. 

to. our experience, and we conceive and know them. But when we seek 
to image them as infinite, we select some examples that illustrate these 
attributes ; we choose an image from the finite to give life and reality to 
the concept of that which we believe to. be unlimited in respect to its 
sphere and energy. The kind of existence and the manner of activity 
which we would image, we assume to be within our experience. As we 
have already seen, the materials at the service of the imagination when 
it has to do with spiritual beings, must come from our personal con- 
sciousness. But this consciousness has direct knowledge only of 
imited powers and acts. Independence of being, eternity of continu- 
ance, superiority to space, unlimitedness of power and knowledge, can- 
not be imaged by any thing which we directly know. They can only in a 
sense be approximatively imaged by an added number of the objects to 
which limited spiritual acts and attributes are related. 

When we use the imagination to image or illustrate our concepts and beliefs 
T \ Q ^t r0< t eSS t ; °^ mmi ^ te j spiritual being, we can multiply and enlarge the images of those 
worthiness. finite objects upon which these powers are employed, and of the finite effects 

in which these infinite attributes are manifest. But these utmost efforts of 
the imaginative power to reach the infinite and absolute, are always attended by the belief 
that they fall short of the reality ; that no enumeration of finite objects, however interesting 
in themselves, or significant they may be, are at all adequate to illustrate the divine ; that 
no continuation of space or of time can express the divine eternity ; that no quanta of de- 
pendent being can fitly represent the Being who is self-existent. To have the materials that 
shall enable a man fitly to image the infinite, one must himself be infinite. There are, indeed, 
analogies between the created and the creating spirit ; else the one could not know the other 
in any sense or to any degree. But these analogies are too few and too inadequate to enable 
or authorize man to penetrate into the secret things which belong to God, or to make con- 
ceivable the divine by any images which man applies so freely and properly to limited things. 
The imagination is not easily content to use the analogies which are placed at its command, 
and to refrain from using those which it may not lawfully employ. It would fain go further 
than it can or ought. To do this, has been its constant temptation and its perpetual daring. 
To refuse to go as far as it may and ought, is weak and unphilosophical ; but to attempt to go 
further, is always irrational, and, it may be, impious. 

Theima i ation § 3 ^°* ^ res P ect > a ^ S0 5 to tne capacities and experiences of 
limited in its ^he spirit in an unembodied or a disembodied state, — when 

pictures of an- r 

other state of separate from a human body or any material organization — 
the imagination is limited in the materials of its working and 
the products which it creates. Our knowledge is of the soul in its con- 
nection with the body, and of objects which are known through sense-per- 
ception. To image any of its acts or states without a constantly present 
background of bodily sensations, is to imagine a mode of existence that 
seems to us imperfect and unnatural. We cannot imagine the soul with- 
out the body by which to know and act, and without material objects to act 
upon. If we attempt it, we bring to our aid some attenuated matter for 
the soul's habitation and instrument, and we surround it with a world of 
objects that wear the forms of material things. It is not easy for us to 






§371. REPRESENTATION.-- THE IMAGINATION. 3*75 

conceive, and therefore not easy to believe in a world of purely spiritual 
agencies and objects, without some intrusion of imaginations taken from 
the world of familiar life. But inasmuch as religious faith not only be- 
lieves in God, but in another condition of existence for the soul unlike 
the present in the connection of soul and body and the instruments and 
objects of the soul's knowledge, the question continually presents itself, 
How far can we image that world by this, and the soul's experiences in 
that world, by its experiences in this ? Can we imagine it at all ? May 
we apply the pictures drawn from this life to illustrate or make conceiv- 
able the scenes and events of another state? "We not only can, but we 
must, yet ever with the caution, that the images which we use be not 
allowed to suggest more than the data authorise. That world is like the 
present in certain particulars, else we could not conceive it at all. 

8 371. There must be concepts which are common to the two, which serve 
Common rela- , , . , , . , „ , , , -^ , . 

tions in the fi- as the bridge across which we pass from the one to the other. But the images 

finTte and the m " b y which these concepts are illustrated, must all be taken from the world of 
sense and matter, because, forsooth, it is only sense and matter that furnish 
images for spiritual facts and phenomena even in the present state of being. If all the 
language concerning spirit, even in this world, is taken from the facts and phenomena of mat- 
ter, it must of necessity follow that such facts and phenomena, when placed in another sphere, 
must yield to the same law. If other facts and phenomena of the future state are to be 
conveyed in language which is at all analogous to the sphere of sense and matter, these must 
be set forth under images derived from the sense-conditions and the material things which 
are present to us here. It should not surprise us, then, to find that the imagination, when it rises 
!nto faith in objects of the unseen world, invariably uses pictures that are borrowed from the 
?rorld of matter, and phrases all its language from materials furnished by this imagery. It 
cannot do otherwise. However lofty its conceptions may be, however soaring its aspirations, 
undoubted its beliefs, or ardent its hopes, all these must be pictured and expressed in the 
images taken from that world of matter which is adapted to a soul that knows and acts 
through a material organism. If there be a revelation that is conveyed by human language 
or addressed to the human soul, it must in this respect be accommodated to the capacities of 
the soul that is to understand and accept it. The fact that it must be conveyed by such a 
medium, does not disprove that a revelation is possible, or at all detract from its importance 
or authority. It cannot be argued against its divine origination or supernatural confirmation, 
that it conforms itself to the nature of the being to whom it is made. If man is to under- 
stand its import, that import must be expressed under the conditions and laws of human thought 
and of human language. If we must image the concepts of our own spiritual life, and of 
an extra-mundane sphere of being, by pictures taken from the material sphere, all communi- 
cations to us concerning other spirits and other spheres of being must be made under this 
common condition and by means of this common vehicle, whether they are natural or super- 
natural, whether they are human or divine. 

If, on the other hand, we regard the necessary limits of imagination and 

iN GCSSSoXy Cf*i«.* 

tions in conceiv- faith, we shall not expect that either will do more for us than lies in the 
preting revela- capacities of either. 'We shall not confound the images of analogy with the 
tion - intuitions of direct knowledge. We shall not mistake the accessories of 

illustrative imagery for the realities of the concepts or truths which this imagery sets forth. 
We shall not revel in sense-pictures of the fancy, as though the sensuous in them were literal 
truth. We shall not be imposed upon by pretended seers, because, forsooth, their pictures of 
the unseen, are so minute, so copious, and so beautiful, or so confidently set forth ; overlooking 



376 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 371. 

the circumstance that these visions may be merely the residua of a too luxuriant fancy, or the 
creations of an excited and perhaps an insane imagination. The recognition of the human 
limitations in the divine, will teach us to interpret the divine aright, while it may save us from 
accepting as divine that which is only limited and human. 

Upon the imagination, and its various applications, cf. J. Addison, The Spectator, Nos. 
411, 412, 413, 414, 416, 418, 419 ; A. Alison, Essays on the Nature and Principles of Taste, 
Ess. I. ; M. Akenside, Pleasures of the Imagination ; E. Burke, A Philosophical Enquiry, 
etc., p. v. sees, ii., iv., v., vi., vii. ; D. Stewart, Elements, etc., p. ii. chap. viii. ; Dr. T. Brown, 
Lectures, xlii., xliii. ; Hamilton, Met. Lee, xxxiii. ; J. Ruskin, Modem Painters, p. iii. sec. 
ii. ; S. T. Coleridge, Biog. Lit, chaps, xiii.-xxii. ; W. Wordsworth, Appendix, Prefaces, etc., 
Poetical Works, vol. vi. ; Leigh Hunt, Imagination and Fancy ; E. S. Dallas, The Gay 
Science ; R. G. Hazard, Essay on Language ; P. Brown, Procedure, etc., etc., of the Human 
Understanding; Things Divine and Supernatural conceived by Analogy; H L. Mansel, 
Limits of Religious Thought ; H. Calderwood, Philosophy of the Infinite. 



§372. THINKING AND THOUGHT-KNOWLEDGE. 311 



PART THIRD. 



THINKING AND THOUGHT-KNOWLEDGE. 

CHAPTER I. 

THOUGHT-KNOWLEDGE DEFINED AND EXPLAINED. 

From presentation and representation we proceed, or rather we ascend, to a higher kind oi 
knowledge, viz., knowledge by thought. Presentation gives us individual objects. Kepre. 
sentation recalls them to the memory, and pictures them in the imagination. Both these 
acts and processes prepare them for the service and uses of thought, which gives general, 
ized conceptions, permanent principles, and universal laws. In this part of our treatise 
we treat of the processes and products of thinking, or thought-knowledge ; reserving for 
the part which follows, the consideration of the intuitions and relations which are directly 
assumed in thought, and indirectly in all knowledge. 

To what pro- § ^72. ^ e third kind of knowledge of which the intellect 
terms applied? 6 * s ca P aD le, is thinking, or thought. The term thought, when 
used in this special or technical sense, is applied to a great 
variety of processes, which are familiarly known as abstraction, general- 
ization, naming, judging, reasoning, arranging, explaining, and accounting 
for. These processes are often grouped together, and called the logical, 
or rational processes ; their mutual affinity and common relationship to the 
higher functions of the intellect, being acknowledged by this general ap- 
pellation. 

This affinity is more clearly seen in that they all assume and make 
prominent certain fundamental relations, such as substance and attribute, 
cause and effect, means and end, adaptation and purpose, power and law, 
with the several concepts which these relations involve. 
The relation of ^ ^ s movQ manifest and striking by the relation of these 
to e maJs r °Wgher processes and conceptions to the higher knowledge and 
knowledge. attainments of man. It is by thought only that we can form 

those conceptions of number and magnitude which are the postulates and 
the materials of mathematical science. By thinking, we both enlarge and 
rise above the limited and transient information which is gained by single 
acts of consciousness and sense-perception, as we lay hold of that in 
them which is universal and permanent. By thought, we know effects by 
their causes, and causes through their effects : we believe in powers, whose 
actings only we can directly discern, and infer powers in objects which we 
have never tested or observed : we explain what has happened by refer- 
ring it to laws of necessity or reason, and we predict what will happen by 



378 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 373. 

rightly interpreting what has occurred. By thinking, we rise to the unseen 
from that which is seen, to the laws of nature from the facts of nature, tc 
the laws of spirit from the phenomena of spirit, and to God from the 
universe of matter and of spirit, whose powers reveal His energy, and 
whose ends and adaptations manifest His thoughts and character. 

Thought, as already explained, not only gives us the most 
thought -pro- important part of our knowledge, but it qualifies us for our 

C6SSCS* 

noblest functions. It makes us capable of language, by 
which we communicate what we know and feel for the good of others, 
or record it for another generation ; of science, as distinguished from and 
elevated above the observation and remembrance of single and isolated 
facts ; of forecast, as we learn wisdom by experience ; of duty, as we 
exalt ourselves into judges and lawgivers over the inward desires and 
intentions ; of law, as we discern its importance and bow to its authority ; 
and of religion, as we believe in and worship the Unseen, whose existence 
and character we interpret by His works and learn from His Word. 

§ 3 73. But what it is to think, and how thinking should be defined, may be 
processes illus- more easily understood by a concrete example. We take a familiar object, 
ample. by an & *~ as an a PP^ e i an( * proceed to think it, in the various processes already named. 

We suppose that it is perceived and represented, and that we know from our 
previous studies what it is to perceive and remember. We begin to think this object, which 
has often been perceived and represented. 

First of all, we know it as a being or a something, as distinguished from 

The apple as nothing ; and, as such, like every other entity, whether it be an actual or 
substance and ., ,,. . 
attribute. thought-being. 

Next, we think or know this being as possessed of and distinguished by 
attributes or properties which we can separate in thought from the being to which they belong, 
but which are held to it, and to one another, by a natural bond which cannot be broken. 

We go further: we observe in other objects — apples — attributes like those 
Abstraction and which we discern in this ; we see the objects to be similar in color, form, 
generalization. taste ^ ete ■ and we tn j n k t h ese apart f rom the less conspicuous attributes, and 

from the individual apples to which they belong, and then combine them into 
larger or smaller groups of attributes. In this way we form the mental product called a 
general notion or concept of the apple, or of apples in general as we say, which we can 
analyze and define. To abstract and to analyze, is to think. 

Next, we restore, or think back, these general concepts to the individual 
Classification apples, and in so doing, we divide them into higher or lower, wider or nar- 
and naming. rower classes; some by their color only, as red, striped, etc.; others by 

their form, as round, oval, etc ; others by their taste, as sweet, acid, etc. To 
classify, is involved in thinking. 

As we proceed, we mark and fix what we have done by language. We give names to 
each of these attributes, to the concepts and things formed and denoted by several attributes 
united ; to the classes and sub-classes into which they are separated. Thinking is necessary 
to language. 

Next the apple holds relation to space and time. It is both extended and 
Geometrical and endurin^. The perception of the apple conditionates or involves the knowl- 
tions e . nCa rela " edge of both space and time ; we do not here inquire how or why. By 

thought and imagination we are enabled to separate the object perceived 



§373. THINKING AND THOUGHT-KNOWLEDGE. 379 

from both time and space, and to construct in space the various geometrical figures, as weL 
as to conceive and define them by their necessary attributes or properties. 

Moreover, all sorts of entities, whether things existing, or thought-things, whether attri 
butes or beings, can, by the common relation to time of the mind that thinks them, be though. 
in the relations of number. They can be counted one by one ; they can be gathered into 
groups, and the groups can be counted : the number of times a smaller group occurs to make 
a larger group, can also be counted. In this way all the operations of arithmetic or algebra 
are rendered possible as acts or operations of thought, upon concepts which thinking itself 
constructs and provides. 

Again, the object — the apple — is believed to be produced from a tree, by 
Cause and ef- beginning as the germ in the blossom, and gradually expanding into the 
feet. ripened fruit. It is known also to be dependent upon the agencies of heat 

and moisture acting together with the living tree. The several changes which 
occur, together with their attendant conditions, are observed by the senses as they precede and 
follow one another. The memory gathers these in their order. Thought, however, connects 
them as cause and effect, and finds in the phenomena thus connected, the relation of the 
powers and laws of their causative agents. All these relations, and the conceptions which 
grow out of them, are known by thought. 

We proceed to another act of thought-knowledge. By observing the powersi 

and conditions in this class of apples, their habit of growth, the soil, situation 

and temperature favorable to their successful cultivation, we infer that tho 

same are required in all cases, for this kind of fruit, and confirm the sugges- 
tion by experiment. This is knowledge by induction. Induction is a process of thought, for 
simple perception gives us no authority to believe with confidence that which we have not 
observed, nor does the simple memory of the past, or imagination of the possible, justify u« 
in predicting events that are yet future. 

But we do not confine our inductions to a single object, or class of objects. We extend 
them to still wider and higher classes, till, by thought, we have discovered the great powers* 
which pervade the universe, and fixed the laws according to which they act. These widest 
inductions are known by the rational faculty which we call the power of thought. 

But we do not rest with the induction of powers and laws. We observe that 
Adaptation and ^e a PP* e ^ use f u l an( l pleasant as food. We notice that it is the product of 
design. cool climates, and can, with proper care, be preserved through the winter. 

We do not merely observe and record these as facts, but we connect them 
by the relation of adaptation, or fitness to the wants of man. We discern other, adaptations 
in objects. This adaptation implies design or thought in the structure of the universe. It 
shows us each inferior part as contributing to the superior, and all as acting together in per- 
fect harmony toward the well-being of the whole. But adaptation and design are not seen 
nor heard ; they are neither tasted nor handled, but they are known by a higher capacity o 
the intellect ; they are the revelations of thought. 

The nature and processes of thought might be illustrated by an example 
Example from se ^ ecte ^ fr° m tne world of spirit. By consciousness, we know only indi 
spiritual being. vidual states of perception or feeling. They follow after one another, like the 

successive waves of a rapid stream. Should we notice each individual as it 
passes before the eye of our consciousness, the eye would be confused and bewildered. But 
we detain or repeat one and another ; we observe their likeness or unlikeness ; we form con- 
cepts ; we group them in classes which divide the individuals to which they belong ; we fix 
and record the products of our acts by a name ; we find common causes, powers, and laws for 
similar phenomena ; we discern the adaptation of spiritual objects to one another and to the 
world of matter, and thus bind together the world of matter and spirit, in the unity and har- 
mony of one comprehensive plan ; the thinking of man interpreting in these ways the thoughts 
of God. 



380 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 3?5. 

§ 374. From this review of particular instances of thought 
thought defined, we derive the following definitions : To know by thinking, is 
to unite individual objects by means of generalization, classi- 
fication, rational explanation, and orderly arrangement : Thought-knowl- 
edge is that knowledge which is gained by the formation and application 
of general conceptions. 

Thinking is a species of knowledge ; but knowledge has been defined 
as the apprehension of objects in their relations, the different species or 
modes of which are determined by the character of the objects and rela- 
tions. Thinking, as defined from this point of view, is the apprehension 
of objects as generalized, and their implied relations. 

We begin this knowledge with the formation of general conceptions, 
as the first step in the process. We proceed to apply these conceptions in 
the various ways which these conceptions imply and render possible. In 
doing this, we are naturally and inevitably led to evolve the several prod- 
ucts and kinds of knowledge which we have briefly sketched— -formation 
of the concept, classification, definition, division, deduction, induction, ex- 
planation, and systematic arrangement. As the result, we gain rational 
knowledge, philosophical Jcnowledge, scientific knowledge or science, and 
practical insight or wisdom. 

§ 375. Some persons may question the propriety of designating these several 
The uses of the processes by the term thinking, or thought, for the reason that these words 
terms justified. sometimes signify to imagine, or believe on insufficient evidence. To apply 

these terms to the most important distinctions -which we discern, and the most 
positive truths in which we confide, seems to intimate some doubt of the trustworthiness of 
the knowledge itself, and of the processes by which we attain it. 

On the other hand, it should be remembered that thinking and thought, in the best English 
usage, denote, in a general sense, the higher as distinguished from the lower operations of the 
Intellect. There are no single words so appropriate as these, which can be set apart to the 
technical service and designation of the operations of the rational faculty ; no other terms are 
Sn actual use whose common signification is at once so comprehensive and so definite as are 
these. 

Another profounder reason might be given. All the products, or object-matter, with 
which these powers are concerned, as they are general objects, in one sense exist only in and 
for the mind of man. The concept, the class, the argument, the inference, the reason, the 
system, are not individual entities existing permanently in the world of matter or spirit, but 
thought-entities, created by and existing for the intellect that thinks them into being. 
The operations which call them into being may properly be called thought and thinking, in 
distinction from perception, which has to do with those individual objects or events which 
exist or occur in the universe of fact. 

The use of these terms does not, however, imply that the objects are less real, 
What these or that the knowledge is less certain, than the acts and objects of sense and 
imply. d ° n0t consciousness. On the other hand, many of these objects are more real, and 

much of this knowledge is more certain. By these acts we know things in 
their essential nature, their fixed causes, their unchangeable laws, and their controlling ends ; 
in other words, we know them by a deeper insight, and in higher relations, than we can by 
the observations of sense or the experience of consciousness. By thought, we correct the 
mistakes of single observations ; we gain power over nature and over ourselves. By thought, 



g 376. THINKING AND THOUGHT-KNOWLEDGE. 381 

we see into the truth and essence of things, we read the secrets of nature, and interpret the 
very thoughts of God. 

If, by an occasional use, the word to think signifies to surmise, to imagine, or to believe 
without reason, this does not exclude or destroy its higher meaning. 

Appellations for § 3 ^ 6, ^ ** De difficult to find an appropriate term to stand 
thinkiu 0wer ° f ** or a ^ these higher processes, it is almost as difficult to find 
or select an appellation for the power which qualifies us to 
perform them. The intelligence and the intellect have been thus appro- 
priated, but they are also used for the capacity of the soul for every 
species of knowledge, the lower as well as the higher-; for the power to 
know by sense and imagination, as well as the power to know by general 
conceptions. The understanding is sometimes employed in this very 
general sense, and sometimes limited to a single and special function, as by 
Coleridge and others, after Kant. The judgment is used, likewise, in a 
wider and a narrower sense. The reason seems better fitted than almost 
any other term, and yet the reason is used for the very highest of the rational 
functions, or else in a very indefinite sense for all that distinguishes man 
from the brutes. It remains for us to choose between the rational faculty 
and the power of thought, or briefly, thought. For brevity and precision 
we prefer thought. It is scarcely necessary to observe that, like percep- 
tion and representation, and many subordinate terms, thought is used at 
one time for the power, at another for the act of thinking, and at another 
for its product. Thus we say indifferently, c Man is endowed with thought 
as well as with sense : ' " Sits fixed in thought the mighty Stagyrite : " "A 
penny for your thoughts / " 

If the reason were asked why no single term has been assigned by English philosophers 
^I^fl 11 ° *° g f *° ^ s higher power in man, we must answer, that it is in part owing to the want of 
Locke's Essay. definite and accordant views in respect to the nature and functions of such a faculty, and 
in part to the influence of Locke's Essay. This work is quite as much a treatise on logic 
and metaphysics as on psychology. It scarcely professes to give a complete and systematic view of the powers 
of the soul, but is chiefly occupied with an analysis of ideas ; the manner in which they are formed and 
the sources from which they are derived. Even in the incidental notice which he takes of the higher pow- 
ers, Locke is especially superficial and hasty. 

These powers, in addition to those of sense, reflection, and memory, are loosely called discerning, com- 
paring, compounding, naming, abstraction (B. ii. c. xi.). He promises to treat of these fully afterwards, but 
fails to redeem his promise psychologically ; what he contributes in addition being only in the way of logical 
and metaphysical analysis. Locke gave the direction to all subsequent writers, even to those who differ 
from him most materially. Even Reid, in treating of the higher powers, groups them all under judgment, 
which he treats quite as much from a logical as from a psychological starting-point. The threefold division, 
derived from the Schoolmen, of knowledge into simple apprehension, judgment, and reasoning, seems to 
have exercised a powerful influence, often for evil, over the psychological treatment of the higher powers. 
This is to be observed even in Kant. 

It is worthy of notice that, before the time of Locke, the intellectual powers were, in England, divided 
into three : sense, phantasy, and intellect. The oldest antagonists of Locke, as Lee, Bishop Peter Brown, 
and others, complained that he did not recognize this division. 

Whatever else of good may be said of Locke, in that he emphasized consciousness (reflection) as a dis- 
tinct source of knowledge, of equal authority with sense ; he did no good to psychology by abandoning this 
received threefold distinction. Eor all his efforts to give clearness and precision to his conceptions and 
nomenclature, Locke merits the highest praise. He is to be honored for his unwillingness to acquiesce in 
traditionary terms or forms of speech, and for his desire to find a meaning in all that he accepted ; but h*j 
is not to be commended for rejecting the traditional psychology of the schools because of its formalism, 
and yet following blindly the traditional logic, which, if possible, was even more formalistic and empty. 



382 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §378. 

§ 377. The power of thought may be considered in two 
thought? 60 s ° aspects : as a capacity for certain processes or functions ; and 

for originating or bringing to view certain fundamental 
conceptions or relations. In the one of these aspects it performs the 
several acts which we have enumerated, of generalizing, judging, reason- 
ing, etc., the most of which are usually called logical processes, because 
they are more or less intimately related to deduction or reasoning. In 
the other, it is viewed as the discoverer of certain native conceptions or 
intuitions, and the propounder of certain first truths, or first principles ; 
which are also called necessary and universal propositions, or axioms of 
reason. These conceptions and propositions are called metaphysical con- 
ceptions and metaphysical truths. 

To the performance of the processes which have been named, these con- 
ceptions are absolutely essential. We can neither generalize, nor reason, 
nor infer, without both assuming and employing the conceptions of sub- 
stance and attribute, cause and effect, means and end. But the power 
which originates and reveals them is distinguished from the faculty which 
applies them, or rather, we should say, the same faculty has been differ- 
ently named according as it is viewed as developing or as applying these 
necessary conceptions and relations. 

Hamilton treats these two offices as two faculties, the elaborative and the 

Often distin- regulative, the one of which elaborates or works over the materials furnished 

guished as two ° ' 

faculties. by the lower powers, according to the conceptions or rules which the other 

furnishes or prescribes. In this he follows Kant very closely, who calls the 
logical faculty, the understanding , and the power to which it is subjected as explained by his 
peculiar philosophy, the reason. 

It is more legitimate to consider the two in conformity with the analogy which we discern 
in the other powers of the soul ; the one as the capacity for certain definite acts or processes 
of knowing, which we consciously exercise and employ ; and the other as the unconscious 
source of those conceptions, according to which the material of knowledge must arrange 
itself by the very constitution of the thinking power. According to this view, the logical or 
elaborative faculty, or the understanding, performs its appropriate functions, which are analo- 
gous to those of conscious presentation and representation ; while the reason, or the regulative 
faculty, or intuition, is like the unknown and unconscious power possessed by the soul to pre- 
pare for the senses and memory their appropriate material (§47). 

Forms and laws § 378. The thinking power, viewed as the capacity for certain 
Forms °of g be- processes, thinks in various methods that are clearly distin- 
mg * guishable from one another, both as acts and products ; while, 

as in the other activities of the mind, we measure the process by the pro- 
duct, the two being often denoted by the same word. These several products 
are called the forms of thought, or thought-formations. Into these forms 
or formations these several processes bring every individual object, and 
express them by appropriate words. These forms are the concept, the 
judgment, the argument or syllogism, the induction, and the system. 



§379. THINKING AND THOUGHT-KNOWLEDGE. 383 

Each of these forms has its constituent elements and relations, which, in 
their turn, are evolved by the action of the thinking power. 

As the discerner or the discoverer by intuition of certain necessary 
conceptions or relations, the thinking power is said to know or assume 
certain forms of being, according to which it performs its operations of 
thinking, and constructs its forms of thought. These are called indiffer- 
ently, forms of being and forms of knowledge, for the reason that the 
mind can only know what is or exists, and according to the relations in 
which it exists. Some of these forms of being or forms of knowledge 
are time and space, substance and attribute, cause and effect, means and end. 

The laws of thought are criteria of correct thinking, and are stated in the form of rules, 
for the purpose of preventing those errors to which the intellect is liable in its actual thinking, 
and of readily detecting and correcting such errors when they actually occur. 

The forms of thought, in a sense, are laws of thought, inasmuch as the mind cannot think 
at all except it thinks in or through these forms. The laws of thought, however, as techni- 
cally conceived and defined, are those logical and practical rules according to which we must 
think, if we would think correctly. The forms of thought make it possible for us to think at 
all. The laws of thought direct us how to think logically and correctly. 

Inasmuch, as we shall see, the object-matter of our thinking is far wider than the object- 
matter of our knowledge of facts or things, these forms of thought are also applied to abstract 
and hypothetical thinking, as well as to concrete and actual knowledge. 

Relation of § 3 ^ 9, ^e P ower °f thought, as a capacity for certain 
iowef ht owers tbe P s ych°l°gi ca l processes, is dependent for its exercise and 
development on the lower powers of the intellect. These 
powers furnish the materials for it to work with and upon. We must 
first apprehend individual objects by means of sense and consciousness, 
before we can think these objects. We can classify, explain, and method- 
ize only individual things, and these must first be known by sense and 
consciousness before they can be united and combined into generals. 

Not only is it true that these lower powers are necessary to furnish 
the objects for thought to work upon, but it is true in fact that they are 
developed long before these higher powers. The infant must go through 
a training of the eye and the ear for months, before it begins to name and 
classify with effect. It is the conscious subject of a multitude of mental 
states, before it gathers the most obvious under a general conception. 
The discipline of attention must be for a long time enforced, before the 
developed mind can learn to apply the commonest concepts or to affix the 
simplest names. The conceptions of cause and effect, and of means and 
end, are not developed till the intellect has become still more mature. 

To the development of thought, the representative faculty is also 
largely subservient. The individual object must not only be apprehended 
in order to be thought of, but it must be recalled again and again. To 
thought, the discernment of similarity is required ; and in order to this, 
the past must be frequently confronted with the present, and the present 



f 



384 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 380. 

must be compared with the past. Objects striking for their likeness or 
their difference, must be recalled by the memory and revived to the im- 
agination, in order that like objects and like phenomena may be grouped 
and arranged in the rudest classification. If the classification is to be 
perfected to any thing like scientific exactness, the memory and imagi- 
nation are to be tasked still further in order that one's thoughts — i. e,, 
one's concepts — may be just to the reality of things. 

But while the thought-power, in its various operations, is thus shown to be 

In what sense developed later than the several forms of direct cognition, it should not be 

active trom tne x ° ' 

first. supposed that it springs into perfect and mature energy by a single bound, 

or that the infant acts of perception are not affected by its rudimental activ- 
ity. The human intellect is a unit, and the action of one power is tinged or modified by the 
feeble energy of all the others. The sense-perceptions of the infant may seem to be more 
feeble and less mature than are those of the young of the brute. The higher powers may 
meanwhile seem to lie torpid long before they are called into distinct activity. But before 
they are revealed to the conscious subject of them, or are expressed in the simplest forms of 
language, they give direction and character to the perceptions of sense. They impart to the 
human eye a cast of dawning intelligence which distinguishes it from the keener eye of the 
dog or the eagle. It is in entire accordance with the analogy of the general development of 
the soul, that the mind should make efforts to think, before these efforts are distinctly apparent 
to the subject himself, or to the observation of others. 

Those efforts of thought with which the philosopher is concerned, are, however, those 
which cannot be questioned, and which are positively revealed in language. 

§ 380. Thinking, again, may be distinguished as concrete and 
stracUMnMiiV abstract. In concrete thinking, we know of thought-con- 
ceptions and relations only in their application to individual 
or concrete things or individual objects. More exactly, we know indi- 
vidual objects under or by means of the relations which thought furnishes. 
In abstract thinking we separate these conceptions and relations from any 
and all individual objects. We consider them apart by abstraction, and 
sometimes treat them as though these conceptions and relations could have 
an independent existence. In concrete thinking, we proceed as we have 
described in § 373. We perceive an apple or a stone. By thought, we 
know it as a being. We think it as round, or oval, as colored, etc., etc. ; 
we apply to it the proper adjectives, or qualifying words. We do not 
think of the distinction between the apple as a substancej and its attributes ; 
much less do we think of being in the abstract, and speculate about the 
distinction between substance and attributes, as to its origin and nature. 
We simply know this individual object as a being distinguished or qualified 
by attributive concepts and names. 

In abstract thinking, we separate or abstract from every individual 
object the generalized conceptions which we produce by thinking, as also 
those by means of which we think ; as the concept, the judgment, the 
argument, the inference, on the one hand, and substance, i, e., being and 
attribute, cause and effect, means and end, on the other. We even abstract 



§380. THINKING AND THOUGHT-KNOWLEDGE. 385 

and generalize our very acts or processes of thinking, and view them apart 
from the individual examples or cases in which they actually occur. We 
ask, What is it to conceive, to generalize, to judge, to reason, to infer—* 
nay, what is it itself to think ? We discuss the nature and origin of these 
conceptions, and their relations to one another, and to the objects to 
vhich they are applied, and to the rest of our knowledge. 

Concrete thinking is performed by every human being whose powers are fully 
B ef Wh0 Uif kin " developed. All men freely apply its original conceptions and relations. By 
performed? means of them they know sensible and spiritual objects, so far as they know 

them at all. A stone or an apple, a horse or a dog, a house or a church, a 
spirit or a person, each and all are known as beings, and are distinguished and defined by 
certain attributes or properties. One of these acts upon another, as cause producing an effect. 
One alters the form of another, scatters its particles, unites them in a new form, or produces 
a new existence. The fire causes the gunpowder to explode ; the magnet attracts the iron ; 
the spirit moves the body, and, by means of its own body moves other bodies also, and ex- 
presses itself by motions, looks, and words. 

In myriad forms, objects are familiarly known by us as substances and attributes, as 
causes and effects, as means and ends. In the concrete form, all these conceptions are present 
in the language, and familiar to the minds of the most uninstructed men. They animate and 
direct all their actions in common life. They are the grounds of their opinions and beliefs. 
They excite their hopes, arouse their fears, and move all the springs of feeling. 

But when these conceptions are abstracted, and viewed apart from individual 
Difficulty of ab- beings, they are not easily made familiar to the mind without a special disci- 
stract thinking. pij ne# it } s on \j a f ew - men wno possess the tastes or the training which 

qualify them familiarly to deal with or rightly to understand thought-concep- 
tions when abstracted from concrete things. Skill in using, and discrimination in understand- 
ing them, can only be acquired by patient and concentrated efforts. 

Each of these classes of men are exposed to a special danger. Those who are 
E n r0r th - °^ th °i e accustome( * to these conceptions only in the concrete, and who have no 
iii the concrete. familiarity with them when presented in the abstract, do not readily assent 

to their reality, when thus taken out of their applications and made the objects 
of philosophical analysis. They stare at these abstractions as at pallid ghosts, that walk 
abroad only at midnight, and are scared by the broad and bright light of the open day. They 
even question their validity, and the authority of the processes by which they are formed. 
Though they prove themselves to be their every-day acquaintances, they can scarcely compel 
recognition on account of their strange clothing. If recognition is at last compelled and: 
conceded, men untrained to abstraction are never quite easy in their presence, or ready to 
trust them in their uncommon and unfamiliar garb. 

Those trained to philosophical thinking often rush into the opposite error.. 

Of those who They treat these abstract conceptions as independent entities. They believe 

think in the ah- , , , . , . , , _ , . , , , _ 

stract. that these ghostly creations have veritable flesh and blood. Because they 

are denoted by nouns and receive separate appellations, they are considered 
and treated as things. Those who analyze and discuss them, often forget that the only exist- 
ing beings are material things and spiritual agents, and that it is only as attached to these that 
these abstract conceptions and relations can have actual force ; as it is by these only that" 
their true nature can be understood. These existing beings alone both exist and are known, 
and stand in certain relations to one another, and to the being which knows them. They 
cannot be known in the concrete, or as individuals, except as individual beings with individual 
attributes, as individual causes capable of individual effects, as individually adapted to indi- 

To 

25 



386 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §382 

abstractions of thought be brought back. They must all be translated into these, in order tc 
have any meaning or any truth. 

Relation of §381. There is no natural antagonism between knowledge 
experience and by experience and knowledge by thought, or, as it is some- 
times called, the knowledge of individual facts and the 
knowledge of truths. Those who insist that what we observe by the 
senses or experience in consciouness is the only knowledge on which we 
can rely, overlook the fact that nothing can be known by observation or 
experience which is not also known in some of its attributes, effects, or 
uses, and that it cannot be expressed in human language without being 
generalized, expressed in propositions, and used in deduction and induc- 
tion. They do not notice that no human being can observe facts without 
thinking those facts. 

On the other hand, thinking, without deriving our thoughts from and testing them by 
individual examples, is no thinking at all, because it violates the very definition and concep- 
tion of thinking which makes it begin in the actual with individual perceptions and expe- 
riences, and proceed by generalizing what it observes. . Facts unconnected by those relations 
of thought by which they are conceived, classified, explained, and described, are barren of 
all interest and unproductive of all use. Thoughts, as mere abstractions, are the vaguest and 
driest of all phantasms, except as they are exemplified by facts. Facts without thought-rela- 
tions are poor and barren. Thoughts without facts are empty and useless. 



Relation of 



§ 382. Thinking is aided by language, and, to a great ex- 
thought to lan- tent, } s dependent upon it as its most efficient instrument 

and auxiliary. But thinking is not constituted by, but, on 
the contrary, itself originates and gives form and law to language. 

The connection between thought and language is so intimate, that we 
shall have occasion to refer to it again and again. One or two general 
remarks in respect to it, seem here to be in place. The reason why 
thought requires such an instrument and assistant as language, is, that the 
objects of thinking are generalized objects, and to such objects there are 
and there can be no realities actually existing. The results or products of 
our thinking are not manifested by any changes which are actually effected 
m material or spiritual objects. When we observe a countless number of 
similar animals and group them into a class, we do not impress by these 
acts any changes upon their structure or their habits. "We may classify 
and arrange them into a complete and well-ordered system, but we do not 
add to or take from them as individuals a single property. The same is 
true of spiritual beings and acts. Nothing passes over to the objects thought, 
which shows how we have thought and classed them. In the knowledge 
by sense, the same object reminds us that we have seen it before, or an 
object once seen is itself suggested to our memory and recognized as 
previously known. So, in spiritual acts, one individual is recognized as 
so like another that we call it the same. But thought-generalizations 
have no such objects by which they can be recalled and tested. It is only 



§382. THINKING AND THOUGHT-KNOWLEDGE. 381 

by language — the sound to the ear, and its symbol for the eye — that the 
products of our activity can be fixed so as to be the objects of recall 
and future use. Hence words spring into being as fast as definite con- 
ceptions are formed. Hence it is as natural for man to speak as it b 
to think, and man 'speaks because he thinks.' The name petrifies, pre 
serves, and exhibits the flitting concept as in a crystal shrine, both hard 
and clear. The proposition embodies the judgment for the use of the 
man who first thinks it, and who expresses it to stimulate the thinking 
of others. In applying names, we must enter somewhat into the nature 
and properties of the objects for which they stand. In defining terms, 
we must be guided to their meaning by observing the things to which 
they are applied. In accepting or rejecting propositions, we must think 
of the relations of the objects which they concern. 

It follows that, as an individual who is limited in his thinking will require and 
A limited Ian- use only a limited vocabulary, so it will be with a community. Wherever we 
Imnted thought. nn( ^ a language scanty in the number and meagre in the import of its words, 

or a language which is limited in the combinations and relations of its syntax, 
we always infer that the thinking of the people who formed or used this language was im- 
perfectly developed. 

It follows, also, that the study of words must be a study and discipline of 
The study of thought. To master a language that is rich in its vocabulary, requires that 
of thought. we contemplate the nicer shades of thought which are expressed by the 

endless variety of the conceptions which are embodied in its words. If it is 
complicated in its structure, we must discriminate all the delicate relations which this syntax 
expresses or suggests, and trace them through all the variety of forms in which they are 
expressed. No language can be dead to the intelligent student. Its thoughts are enshrined, 
not buried ; for they can be made living at the call of the mind which thinks them over 
again, long after the minds which first conceived them have passed from the earth. Accord- 
ing as these thoughts were crudely conceived or delicately distinguished, so is the language 
itself rough or polished, awkward in its structure, or plastic as the living spirits which moulded 
it. The delicate tissue of words reflects the varying shades of thought, feeling, and opinion 
that run through every part of the fabric, like threads of silk and gold. 

But, on the other hand, words in no sense constitute thought, as some 
hastily infer. Language is simply thought expressed, though the thought 
is made permanent by being expressed. It is formed by the thinking 
power, because this requires for its development and perfection a sensible 
expression of its inner processes, and seeks a permanent embodiment and 
record of their results. 



JS88 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §383. 

CHAPTER n. 

THOUGHT — THE FORMATION OF THE CONCEPT OK NOTION. 

Thinking has been already denned as that series of processes by which we form and apply 
general notions or concepts. It is obvious that the first act in this series of processes is 
to form or develop these products. The consideration of the process will instruct us as to 
the nature of the product. The psychological knowledge of the acts by which we attain 
the concept, will instruct us as to its nature and definition, and prepare us to understand the 
other thought-processes to which it is preparatory, as well as to evolve those metaphysical 
beliefs and original notions which it presupposes. All will agree that the greater part of 
our general notions are formed or acquired by the exercise of the soul's own energy. 
However earnestly or positively some may insist that a part of our notions are innate, 
none will deny that the great variety of notions which we apply to common objects are 
acquired by special mental acts. 

Material objects § 383. We begin with the concepts of material objects, such 
coTcIpts^re as a stone, an apple, a horse; and observe that such objects 

must be perceived, in part at least, before we form general 
notions of them. We do not insist that the process of perception should 
be complete before the act of generalizing begins. It is not necessary 
that all the percepts appropriate to the several senses should be gained, 
and that these should be united under all their relations, before general- 
ization commences. Still less is it intended that all the acquired percep- 
tions should be mastered ; for generalization may assist sense perception in 
these higher combinations and acts. It is necessary, however, that a 
percept should go before a concept in the order of time, as it is the 
foundation for it in the relation of logical subordination. A general 
notion requires individual objects to which it can be applied ; and indi- 
vidual objects in the material world can only be known by perception. 

The mind begins to generalize as soon as it knows that 
are known to be several perceived objects are different as individuals, and yet 

are in any one respect alike. Before generalization, they 
may be known confusedly or known vaguely. The perceptions from the 
many objects may be taken to be one through careless inattention, or may 
be known as many, and yet be neither clearly distinguished as apart, nor 
clearly united as similar. As soon, however, as they are distinguished, 
as not the same, and yet as united by a common likeness, the process of 
generalization has begun. This process is possible even with single per- 
cepts. If ten patches of red color, of the same form, dimensions, and 
intensity, were presented to the eye, the mind might gather, or conceive 
or grasp them together, by their common redness, and form a general 
notion of them ; separating them as many by their distinguished or 
distinct position in space, and yet uniting them as one by the single, 
similarity of color. 

If these ten red discs of color, by the use of the remaining senses, are 



§ 384. THE FORMATION OF THE CONCEPT OR NOTION. 389 

afterwards known to be ten red apples, i. e. if other points of likeness are 
perceived, the generalization is more complex in its materials, but the 
process is the same. What is the process ? What are the elements 01 
separable acts which it involves ? 

The process involves aa act of analysis or attentive dis 

This involves . . . . . 1 , . , . 

analysis of then- crimination, I he mind must notice that which is common, 
and distinguish it from that which is diverse. That which 
is diverse must have been noticed when the individuals were perceived. 
In generalization, the mind goes one step further : it discerns, by a sepa- 
rate act, that which is common. This act is an act of comparison. Its 
appropriate object is likeness or diversity. It discerns it first as similar, 
L e. the red, or whatever it may be. It takes this similar to be the same, 
and, so regarding it, finds it in every one of the individual objects. This 
similar something, conceived as common to many objects distinguished as 
individuals, is a general conception, notion or concept. 

The individuals are, in common language, called beings ; that similar some- 
Beings distm- thing which is common to all, is their attribute. The individuals are called 
crushed from ° ' 

their attributes, beings, because, as we have previously explained, every object of direct 

knowledge is a being. Every object directly known as diverse in space or 
time, is a separate or different being. But, by comparison, we know these beings in a new 
relation, as being similar in one particular. This similar something is not a being, for it is 
discerned in all, and known of all, of one as well as of another. This is called their attribute, 
because it is asserted of each, or attributed to each. It is also called property, quality, pred- 
icable, etc., etc., for reasons which are purely logical, and which will be explained in their 
place. 

Abstraction- to § 3 ^4. The mental acts which we have described, are famil- 
a rescinl and to * ar ty known as follows : The act of analytic attention by 
which that element in each of these objects which is like 
its fellow in every other, is separately observed or noticed, is usually 
called abstraction, because the mind draws it away from the other parts 
or percepts. Kant and Hamilton say that abstraction refers to that from 
which the mind withdraws itself, while it prescinds the similar to which 
it attends. Thus, in the example cited, the mind prescinds the redness, 
and abstracts its attention from all the remaining attributes. 

The next step is, to perceive by comparison Jhat the several 
Comparison. objects to which we thus separately attend, are alike. This 
is to compare, or to know by comparison. 
The next step is, to consider these several similars as the 
Generalization, same, as one something which is common to all the indi- 
viduals perceived. This is to generalize — to make general — 
more properly, mentally to think or affirm a common something of all 
these individuals. The similar red, or round, or sweet, or bitter, is made 
one, and, as one, is regarded as common to each of the difFerent indi- 
viduals. Which of these acts is first performed, is immaterial — whether 
the mind seems to generalize before it abstracts, or the reverse ; 01 



390 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §385. 

whether it attends, compares, and generalizes all in one. It is all the 
same as to both process and product, whether we separate the redness 
from the first apple which we perceive, before we apply it to the many, 
*>r are stimulated by observing many red apples to notice and abstract 
that which is alike and common, or whether the points of difference ex 
cite us to generalize the one, or more, in which the objects are alike. 

Again, when this common something has thus been general- 

The attribute . °, , ,.,' , . . ., ,. ? & 

affirm able of ized by like objects, it can be applied to any and every other 
object to which it is appropriate. Thus, round, after being 
thought of a single class, as of apples or balls, may be thought of all 
objects that are round — as of the vast spheres which are hung in the 
heavens, or of globules so minute as to be indiscernible by the naked eye. 

These processes are performed by all men whose higher powers are at aU 
These processes developed. Every such man knows what they are, for they all abstract, 
men. compare, and generalize with equal ease, though not to the same extent or 

with equal perfection. All men do not discern with equal readiness that 
which is alike and that which is different in individual objects. There are shades of color, 
peculiarities of, form, varieties of taste and sound, which some men can never distinguish as 
either alike or unlike, with the utmost energy of attention. Many more are not reached, 
through indolence, or carelessness of attention. There are others still, to discern which we 
need a special discipline: as the training of the painter's eye, the musician's ear, or the 
mechanic's touch. There are abstractions, however, which all men make who think at all, 
even the rudest and the youngest. There are generalizations also, to which all are compe- 
tent, and which all men habitually perform. 

Presuppose the § 385. It has been already observed, that these processes 
substance and develop and presuppose the distinction of substance and 
attribute — i. e., of being and distinguishing relations. The 
individual apples of which we think the redness are beings, the redness is 
their common attribute. What is the nature of, and what the authority by 
which we make this distinction, we do not propose here to inquire. For 
our present purposes, it is sufficient that we call attention to the fact that 
it is fundamental to the process of forming the notion, and that it must 
be assumed as real, and be firmly believed by the mind. 

One thing only we observe : The distinction is not discerned by the mind 

This distinction through the organs of sense. We abstract one sensible quality after another, 
not discerned by b b ^ J 

sense-perception, and we still say the being remains. When every sensible quality, save one 

is conceived to be removed, we even then distinguish what remains as substance 

and attribute. We cannot take away one quality after another, as we lay off the folds of a 

crystal or the layers of an onion, and find a material nucleus, or core, which is itself a simple 

being, without attributes or qualities ; for what remains is as truly a being and an attribute 

as that with which we began. So far as the senses are concerned, what we call the qualities 

and being are blended in one and constitute a whole, and yet we believe that the two are 

diverse from one another, and that every mind assumes the distinction to be valid and real. 

It is only when we analyze the thinking process and its product by a reflex and generalizing 

act, that we find that we cannot affirm the similars conceived as the same, to be common to 



§386. THE FOKMATION OF THE CONCEPT OK NOTION, 391 

every individual, without framing a thought or mental something which is distinguishable from 
he beings to which it belongs. 

We rest here, at present, with this discovery, which points to further inquiries — viz., thai 
»he distinctive or differing conceptions of being and attribute are not discerned by sense-per- 
ception, but are evolved in the processes of thought. 

By the same method, we prove that they are not discerned by our conscious 
Jf °v S ! ric{ b y experience of single spiritual acts or states. Though it be essential to each 
consciousness. one of such acts or states, that they be performed or suffered by the identi- 
cal ego, yet these acts or states must first be abstracted, compared, and 
generalized, before they are known as attributes, and the ego is known as a being, or the 
subject or substance of common attributes. Of spiritual as really as of material attributes 
and beings, it is true that their concepts or notions are evolved and discerned by thought. 

The further discussion of the import and origin of these correlates must be reserved for 
another place. [Cf. P. IV. C. VII.] 

The product, a § 386. The product of the processes which have been con- 
tion? P import n of sidered, is called a concept or notion. We employ these 

terms because they may be made precise in their import and 
technical in their use. Conception is sometimes used ; but conception is, 
in our English philosophy, used indiscriminately for any and every object 
of the mind's cognition, or else is arbitrarily limited, as by Dugald Stewart, 
to the individual object of representation ; thus made equivalent to image. 
Abstract general conception (or even general conception), is sufficiently 
precise in its import, but is too cumbrous for common use. Concept and 
notion have each, in their etymology, a special signification appropriate to 
one aspect or feature of the product to which both are applied. Concept 
signifies that which is grasped or held together, and refers us to the act 
by which different similar attributes are treated as one, or the same act by 
which separate individual beings are united as one by their common attri- 
bute or attributes. Notion, on the other hand, indicates that which is or 
may be known by certain signs or marks, notm — i. e., constituting, defin- 
ing, and distinguishing attributes. Concept refers us to the psychological 
process by which the product is formed ; notion, to the uses to which it 
is applied. Both may be properly employed as technical and scientific 
designations. 

The reality of any such mental product or thought-object 
the product has been questioned chiefly by those who have misunderstood 

questioned. L . • . 

or misconceived its nature. Its import or nature has been 
imperfectly or vaguely estimated even by many who have believed in its 
reality. It is only by explaining its nature, both negatively and positively, 
that its reality can be vindicated and established. 

The concept is not a percept, nor is its object an object aa 
pereep?. not a perceived. This last is strictly individual; the concept is 

uniformly general. The one differs from the other in tUe 
conditions which occasion it, the process from which it comes, and the 
result which is evolved. In order to prove this beyond question, we have 



392 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 387. 

only to ask what the mind knows when it sees a man, and what it thinks 
of when it utters the word man, and applies it in thought to the 
human species. No one can doubt that the two objects of cognition 
are diverse, even though he may not easily explain in what this difference 
consists. 

The concept is not a mental image, or the object of the 
image* mental mind's cognition in representation. We recall an individual 

percept, one or many ; or we form, by creation, some image 
unlike any which we have in fact perceived. These objects are, as truly 
as percepts, clearly distinguishable from that which the mind thinks or 
knows when it uses a general term. It is not asserted that the mind is 
not aided by percepts and images, in forming, recalling, and applying its 
notions, but only that they are not the same, and should not be con- 
founded. 

Again, it is not asserted that there is any individual being, or any being 
No existing in- . . ' . . . •" . , 

dividual corre- existing in fact or nature, which answers precisely to any concept or notion. 

concept. There is no such thing existing as a man or tree in general, but only indi- 

vidual men and trees. The notion exists only in the mind which forms it, 
and in the mind which receives it from another, forming it over again for itself in the act of 
receiving and using it. If it be asked, How, then, is it that these notions are denoted by 
fixed terms that are universal in all generations and have their synonyms in all languages ? 
We reply : The human mind generalizes by similar processes, and is furnished with similar 
objects, having the same essential and common relations. Hence, each man forms the same 
notions with every other, so far as each uses the same powers upon the same objects with 
similar fidelity and attention. 

is a relative ob- § 38 ^« We observe positively: the concept is a purely rela- 
ed^e ° f knowl " ti ye object of knowledge. This is its distinctive feature, 
that it has definite relations to objects of sense and conscious- 
ness. So far from forming an objection to the possibility, the reality, or 
the significance of such an object of thought, that it is not like an object 
of sense or experience ; this very circumstance proves its possibility and 
provides for its credibility. As a mental product and mental object, it is 
purely relative, being formed by the mind and understood by the mind as 
indifferently common to single objects ; as, so to speak, held ever ready 
by the mind to be affirmed of, and restored to, the single objects to which 
it relates. These objects only enable the mind to understand its import. 
The individual things to which it relates, give to it its significance and 
utility. Without these, it is a no-thing, an unintelligible and unreal 
fancy. This peculiarity of the concept is implied in its various appella- 
tions. It is called a general, that is, capable of being thought of many 
individuals, which are thereby grouped into or conceived as a class. It 
is called also a predicable, by its very nature capable of being affirmed or 
thought of single objects. It is a universal — i. e., pertaining equally tc 
all the individuals to which it. belongs. 



§388. THE FORMATION OF THE CONCEPT OR NOTION. 393 

The relative character of the concept is still further expressed by the asser- 
In what sense is tion, that the knowledge which it gives is symbolical only. Under this view, 
symbon CeP l concepts are viewed as being like to mathematical characters or symbols, 
They have no import and impart no knowledge when used apart from thi 
objects to which they relate, but serve an important purpose in enabling us to recall oui 
previous observations of comparison and analysis. They also fix such observations, so that 
we cau avail ourselves of them at a subsequent time. They assist others in making the same 
observations more surely and readily. But aside from their application, they are as meaning, 
less and dry as are the characters and signs of a mathematical formula (cf. § 427). 

Others have contended, that the only symbol required is the word ; that 
The concept nam es, or general terms, are the only characters required for the purposes 
name. above described ; that the concept or notion, when regarded as intervening 

between the name and the individual object, is a mere fiction. This view, 
so earnestly urged by the nominalists of ancient and modern times, and by some eminent 
philologists, is exposed to the following objections : First, there could be no generalization or 
thought-knowledge without language. This consequence is set aside by the notorious fact 
that deaf-mutes can generalize without the use of written or spoken terms, and even without 
any language whatever. The sign-language which they use when without culture, is but 
the painting of individual objects or acts. Second, general terms, when used as symbols, 
do not symbolize sensible or individual objects as such, but only elements, attributes, or parts 
which are separated by analysis, and compared as like or unlike. If these mental operations 
did not separate and fix these objects, the words would have no meaning ; they would have 
nothing to symbolize, they would stand for nothing, they would signify nothing. Let it be 
granted that what they do signify cannot be known except in its relation to individual beings, 
and by means of these beings or those which are like them, it does not follow that when 
these objects are before the mind it does not find that in relation to them, which is conceived 
by itself, and then signified by language. 

That in the individual objects which the mind can distinguish by analysis, and then 
recombine by synthesis, is not now the subject of our inquiries. We assume that these 
individual objects are capable of being thus analyzed into relations, properties, and attributes, 
and that these relations, etc., can be discerned to be like, and thus united under a common 
concept, which concept is by its very nature applicable to every one of these objects. 

8 388. Again : as being this common and relative thing, the 

The concept re- « © © ... 

spects attributes concept respects only the similar attributes of individuals, or 

or relations. l j. c 

such as might be supposed to be alike. It respects those 
elements which analysis can separate as individually distinct and compari- 
son can unite as alike. Attributes, properties, and relations, are the only 
objects which it respects. These are first discerned, then compared, then 
united into a single thought-object. This object is the concept or notion. 

Herein lies the difference between the act of a brute and the act of a man in 
Can hmtes form perceiving objects that are alike. In one sense, the brute may perceive what 
concepts 1 j g g j m ii ar as readily as a man ; in some cases, even more quickly, for his 

senses may be more keen. If he has been ill-treated or frightened by any 
other animal or any other thing, whatever is like it will be avoided at once. But the brute 
does not attend and analyze as does a man. Hence he cannot discriminate so as to abstract ; 
or, at best, the degree and range of such efforts must be very limited. His power to compare 
and discern the like and the unlike, would for this reason, be lame and feeble if no other 
were suggested. Should it be granted that the brute can discern similar attributes, it 
has no power at all to conceive or think the similar as the same. It cannot form and use a 



394 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §389. 

concept as founded on attributes and as common to individual beings. Hence, the brute is 
incapable of language. He may utter sounds and cries, which instinct extorts and to which 
the instinct of the hearer responds, and thus the voice and ear of the animal tribes may serve 
jome of the useful and social ends which language accomplishes in man ; but the brute is 
incapable of language as the signs of concepts, because he is incapable of thought. He can. 
not form aud use a concept, and therefore he can neither speak nor understand a single word. 
Even the parrot, that miracle of talkers, is incapjibie of language, and never utters what de- 
serves to be called a word. 

The concept re- ^ e observe still further, that all which the coDcept contem- 
spects relations pi a tes or signifies, . is these common attributes which are 
discerned in the individuals to which it is applied. These 
attributes are its proper and sole import or signification. The concept, 
as such, is not at all concerned with the number of individuals in which 
these attributes are found, or with anything else which may be true of 
them. It is all the same to our thinking and to the concept which we 
form by thinking, whether the tree of which we make and use the notion, 
is here or there ; is high or low ; is the tree which we have often seen and 
admired, or the tree which is ten thousand miles distant ; is the tallest of 
the cedars of Lebanon, or of the firs of California, or the most dwarfed 
and stunted on the coldest mountain summit. It is even indifferent 
whether it actually exists or not ; it is only essential that it be made up 
by the mind of the actual constituents of every object that is properly 
called a tree. 

So of the notion of man. It is of no importance whether we apply it to this or that 
man, to a tall or short, a black or a white man, to the man whom we love or the man whom 
we hate, or whether we apply it to any man at all, so long as we make it to stand for the 
attributes that properly belong to every one who is indeed a man. So far as the signification 
is concerned, the noun man, the adjective human, and the abstractum humanity, are precisely 
the same. The three denote only a single concept, viz., that composed of the attributes which 
belong to men. But why, then, are three words employed, if their import is the same ? 
Why are general terms divided into nouns, adjectives, and abstracta? We answer: The dif 
ference of these words concerns their application, and the convenience of language for brief 
and condensed expression. It does not in the least regard the import of the concept common 
to the three terms. 

Conce ts as con- § 389 - I* is important to notice, however, that in their 
cjete and ab- application, concepts are distinguished as concrete and 
abstract. The concrete notion contemplates attributes, and 
is applied to beings existing. The abstract notion treats an attribute as 
though it were itself such a being. Of the three notions named, man 
and human are concrete ; humanity is an abstract notion. The concrete 
notions are applied directly to an actually existing being, for purposes of 
classification and language, which need not here be explained. The ab- 
stract humanity is applied to designate a being that is purely fictitious, 
so far as actual existence is concerned, but which, in language and in 
thought, is treated as though it were a real being. 



§390. THE FORMATION OF THE CONCEPT OE NOTION. 395 

It is concoived as a being, by having attributes affirmed of it ; as when we say, humanity 
Is frail and peccable. It has adjectives prefixed to it, as in the phrase, our original humanity 
It is divided into classes : humanity is either instructed or neglected, etc. In short, it ia 
capable of being treated in every way, as though there were living beings called humanities. 
But when we analyze the real meaning of language, and the thoughts of those who use it, 
we find that the only beings distinguished by the mind are the living men who are endowed 
with human attributes. Every one of the phrases or sentences in which we use humanity as 
a being, could be exchanged for others in which men only should be spoken of. These 
sentences might be long and complicated and awkward, but they would serve to show that 
abstracta, or abstract nouns, have no actual existence themselves, but in every case carry us 
back to some real beings in the world of matter or spirit. 

There is still another sense of the words concrete and abstract, which is purely logical, excluding all 
reference to existing things, and concerned only with notions as compared with one another. According 
to this use, the concrete notion is the notion with a comparatively full significance, consisting of many, 
packed f nil of, attributes, while the abstract is one with few. 

Notions as sim- § 3 ^0. Notions, again, are still further distinguished as 
Pj e x and com - simple and . complex. This concerns their import, and not 
their application. Those notions which are made from a 
single attribute, are simple. Those which are made of more than one, 
are complex. Simple notions are called, by Locke, simple ideas. They 
cannot be analyzed or decomposed into any constituent elements. The 
mind directly discerns them by its various powers of knowledge. Such 
words as white, whiteness, green, greenness, etc., etc., are usually given as 
the names of simple notions. It would be more exact to say that we treat 
these notions as simple, because we do not ordinarily distinguish in thought, 
or by language, the discernible shades of white or green. Those which 
are properly simple, would be such shades of color as can be distin- 
guished from every other. On the other hand, chalJc, chalky, are complex 
notions, because they signify more than one attribute. So, man and 
human are complex spiritual notions, for they contain many attributes. 

No thing or being actually existing is represented by a simple notion. A 

No simple ideas grain of sand or mote in the sunbeam, is complex, for it has form, dimen- 
or beings m na- ° ' r ' » ""*-" 

ture. sions, color, weight, etc., etc. Nature gives us no simple ideas. She touches 

us through too many avenues of knowledge. She leads us to observe varied 
attributes in every existing thing. We, in our thinking, analyze and separate her complex 
objects, and reconstruct and recombine the elements which, at her prompting, we have 
abstracted and generalized. In this way we separate and reconstruct the elements or attri- 
butes of material objects as nature exhibits them to us, as of plants, and animals. Thus, all 
the concepts which are expressed by the general terms that form the staple of every language, 
are constructed by the mind. They are passed from one mind to another. They are fixed in 
words and recorded in books and literature. The names of the objects that human art and 
3kill has constructed for use or beauty, likewise stand for the complex of simple notions which 
we observe in these objects. The artificial creations, such as are conceived by human in- 
vention and spring from human society, the crimes which are defined by human law, the 
offices and relations of government, the signs and proofs of property, the rights and duties 
of men, all these are complex notions, which are made and sustained by civilized man, and 
interest most profoundly his hopes and fears. These are still further removed from the notions 
and terms more usually conceived as abstracta, but, like these, are susceptible of being so 



396 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §391. 

analyzed as to bo carried back to living beings. But these all arc complex notions, and some 
of them exceedingly complex in their constituent elements. If we consult a dictionary, and 
run the eye down its lists of words, we shall be surprised to find how large a portion of them 
stand for these artificial creations, these complexes of abstracted properties. 

§ 391. Notions are technically distinguished by their re- 
tent of notions, lations of content and extent, or, as they are often termed, 

their comprehension and extension, their depth and breadth. 
These relations grow out of the very nature of the notion, as will be 
seen by our definitions. A notion cannot be a notion, unless having 
these two relations. It can neither be formed nor used unless both 
these relations are considered. Indeed, we have already considered both 
in the analysis previously given. But it is none the less important that 
they should be clearly explained and precisely defined. 

The content of the notion is the attribute, or attributes, of 
Content defined, which it consists. It is its contained attributes considered 

as a unit or ichole. Those notions, whose content we have 
the most frequent occasion to consider, are complex notions. Still a sim- 
ple notion has a proper content in the single attribute which, when con- 
ceived as common, is made a concept. Such complex notions as chalk, 
snow, milk, felony, burglary, theft / man, spirit, body, soul, legislation, 
monarchy, republic, a state, etc., have so manifestly a sum of contained 
attributes, that it is with especial propriety that we speak of their content. 

These constitute their meaning or import. When these are fully stated, the notion is 
defined. They are also called the essence, or essential constituents, of the notion, because 
they make up or form its being as a thought-product or thought-creation. The failure to 
distinguish this special use of the word essence, and the readiness with which it has been 
confounded with real existence, has been a fruitful source of confusion and controversy among 
metaphysicians. 

The extent of a notion originally and properly signifies the 
Extent defined, number of individuals to which it is applicable. If we 

could know, by actual census, how many horses or men 
there are at any time existing, their sum would be the extent of the 
notion horse. We rarely, however, have occasion to go to individuals ; 
for these are divided again and again into larger and smaller groups, to 
each of which there is a fixed notion and name. These divisions are 
effected by adding to the content of the notion, which includes a greater 
number of individuals, an additional attribute — in the case of the horse, 
an attribute of color, perhaps ; and we have a new content, white horse, 
black horse, etc., giving an extent of fewer individuals. In many cases, 
we designate the concept thus newly-formed by a separate name, as 
pony, for a small horse, charger, hunter, roadster, etc. So trees are 
divided by means of notions, whose content is given as deciduous and 
non-deciduous, i.e. whose content is expressed by a single word, as firs, 
which again are divided into pines, hemlocks, s^mcces, each having some 



§392. THE FORMATION OF THE CONCEPT OK NOTION- 397 

attribute not belonging to the content indicated by the word fir, or fir- 
tree. 

In consequence of these divisions or groupings of individuals by 
broader and narrower divisions, the extent of the notion in actual use 
always stops short with subordinate groups, and does not carry us down 
or back to the included individuals. These individuals are always in- 
tended, however, and the subordinate classes are said to constitute the 
extent, because they, in their turn, are applicable to and comprehend indi- 
viduals. 

Inasmuch, however, as, for purposes of thought-knowledge, it is of little 
Extent usually consequence how many individual men are living, questions of the actual 
species. extent of a notion rarely concern any thing beside the subordinate classes 

which make up the greater whole. "We do not count up the men who are 
alive — we do not ask whether those who are dead or those not yet born, ought to be added 
to the extent of the notion man. We simply propose to know what are the subordinate 
classes, as far as they have been divided and subdivided ; and having answered these questions 
we rest content till new discoveries or more careful attention require or warrant a still lower 
subdivision. 

As the content of a notion is exhibited by definition, so the 
division. extent is given by division. This division is effected as the 

indirect consequence of adding to the content of the notion 
a new attribute, which immediately narrows its extent. The adding a 
new attribute, or new attributes, for this end, is called determination, or 
the act of bounding off, or limiting. 

It follows that, as the content of a notion is increased, its 
fyasTxtentf 86 " extent is diminished. Hence the maxim : the content is 

inversely as the extent ; and conversely. In other words, 
the greater the extent, the smaller is the content ; the greater the con- 
tent, the smaller is the extent. 

These distinctions and maxims obviously apply to the concepts of abstracta and other 
fictitious entities created by the human mind. Inasmuch as all these are treated as though 
they were real beings, these concepts admit both of the relations of content and extent. 
Thus, gratitude and republic are both capable of definition and division. The content of 
each can be given by defining the attributes which make up its essence, and their extent by 
enumerating the several species or sorts into which each can be divided. Yet neither are real 
beings. 

All the properties of the notion which we have thus far considered, seemed to be involved 
in the very nature of the product, and in its application to its appropriate objects. They are 
none the less important or true for that reason. 

On reflection, it will also be found that these properties and relations have already antici- 
pated and provided for the whole theory of classification. 

§ 392. In forming the notion from, and applying the notion 
how does it to, individual objects, the intellect classifies these objects; 

that is, it groups them into divisions which are broader and 
narrower in their extent ; and of course higher and lower when ranked 
according to their place in a system. This consequence follows both from 



398 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §393. 

the fact that nature has so constructed individual beings that they are 
capable of being grouped into larger and smaller divisions, by means of 
their resembling attributes ; and from the tendency in the human soul to 
meet this fact of nature by the desire to view objects in a corresponding 
orderly arrangement. It follows as a necessary consequence that the 
mind when it thinks the individual objects of its knowledge by means of 
concepts or notions must of necessity classify them. 

The first efforts at classification are necessarily rude and im- 
chMren classify per f ect Children when left to themselves group together 

objects in very strange connections and discern resemblances 
between things which older people never would think of connecting. The 
number or range of objects to which they have access is very scanty — their 
power of attentive analysis has been little exercised, and their movements 
of perception and comparison are unconstrained by the classifications of 
others. In the poverty of their language they apply the words which they 
have, to the strangest uses, on the very slightest and the most whimsical 
analogies. 

They soon learn better, as we say. That is, they take from older persons the concep- 
tions and classifications which have been made before them. In other words, they think over 
again the concepts that are made ready and presented for their use, in the words of which 
they learn both the import and the application. They do not learn these words from memory 
alone, but the words guide them in the direction in which they are to attend and indicate 
what they will find. Thus in learning to talk they are constrained to fall in with those classi- 
fications which previous generations have made before them, and have recorded in the language 
which they have left behind. 

Savages do not classify under the same restraints. !N"ow and 
daslifyf vages then an opportunity occurs in which we can observe the 

movements of their minds. When novel objects are presented 
to them, they usually seek out some concept or word already known and 
familiar, and extend it to the novel object by some resemblance, however 
forced or violent it may be. The goats which Captain Cook carried to the 
Pacific Islands were called by the natives horned hogs : the horse on a 
Jke occasion was called a large dog. The dog and the hog being the only 
quadrupeds with which these savages were familiar, these novel animals 
were taken into the only concepts and names that were ready for their re- 
ception. When the Romans first saw elephants, they called the animal 
bos lucas or lucanus, a lucanian ox, from the province in Italy where they 
were first seen. It was only after countless observations and myriads of 
comparisons repeated for generations by multitudes of individual men, that 
the classifications employed in common life and the concepts designated 
by the words in hourly use have been reached and fixed. 

§ 393. The classifications of science differ from those of com- 
LnsoflS^" mon life in that they are founded on a far closer observation. 

and are directed by the special rules which are furnished by 



§394. THE FORMATION OP THE CONCEPT OK NOTION. 39b 

scientific principles. These may be certain assumed ends, or known 
powers or laws of nature, which were discovered long after those classifi- 
cations were perfected which are recorded in the words of common life. 

The classification of animals into Vertebrates, Articulates, Mollusks, Radiates and Protozoans, 
and the subdivision of the Vertebrates into Mammals, Birds, Reptiles, and Fishes, is very 
different from that represented in the words horse, ox, whale, snake, hawk, quail, robin. 
Neither the so-called natural nor artificial systems of Botany give us what we know under the 
household names of the lily, the rose, the pink, and violet. And yet these common names do 
as really classify their objects as do scientific names. The concepts for which they stand are 
formed by the same processes and applied for the same purposes as those which science forms 
with greater exactness, and uses with greater rigor. As soon as concepts begin to be formed, 
however crude are the first products and grotesque the classifications, the mind has set off 
upon a path which needs only to be faithfully followed to conduct to the definitions of Newton, 
and the classifications of Cuvier. 

To classify is no secret of science, no process reserved for the 

Classification »■ ■ i ...... , .. 

not peculiar to select few who are initiated into a magic art, lout it is as 

6CicHC6 

universal and necessary as the act of thinking. The classifi- 
cations of common life may be as rational and as useful for the ends of 
common life as are those of science for its special objects. They are 
founded on the obvious appearances of objects to the senses and the 
mind. They are adapted to the uses of men of ordinary culture. 

What wealth of thinking does every cultivated language embody and represent ! Each one 
of its words has gathered into its subtle essence the results of repeated and refined observa- 
tions of the men who perhaps by successive efforts at last reached the concept which the sin- 
gle term enshrines. Many of its terms designate relations and similarities which are by no 
means obvious at a hasty glance, and distinctions that would not at once be detected. Even 
those words which we call synonymous, are distinguished by nice but real shades of differing im- 
port. If the language is copious and carefully discriminated like the Greek and the German, 
it is at once a representation and a monument of the thinking of the race who used, and by using 
developed it into its consummated perfection. 

what the no- In like manner the technical nomenclature of -a single science 
aSnce^epre- when finished and arranged, is a transcript of all the discrim- 
sents. mating thoughts, the careful observations, and the manifold 

experiments by which the science has been formed. It represents in brief, 
all the most careful definitions and the most complete and best classified 
divisions which the devotees to its special objects have perfected by 
their labors. 

The chief point which these observations confirm, is that the concept 
is of necessity a classifying agent. We cannot form the concept by com- 
bining individual objects through common attributes, without thereby 
separating them from other objects not thus distinguished. 

§ 394. Classification is nearly allied to systemization. The 
and systemiza- division of objects into classes which are broader and nar- 
rower, has a close affinity with their orderly arrangement in 
classes which are higher and lower, through a succession of divisions and 



400 THE HtJMAlSr INTELLECT. §395. 

subdivisions. Both result from the application of notions in their extent 
to existing objects, or to objects which are conceived to exist. In the 
one case we take a single concept perhaps, and by the determination of its 
content, we divide its extent into several that are subordinate. But when 
we arrange objects by a system, we pursue the same method by a succes- 
sion of subdivisions downward and generalizations upward till we obtain 
a symmetrical arrangement of the whole. To reduce our knowledge of 
any number of individual objects to such a system, we must use efforts 
similar to those which result in the division of a single class. 

Nature provides for the realization of such an aim by the constitution of things ; by the 
distribution of attributes with which existing objects are invested ; and the ordering of the 
powers and laws under which phenomena occur. She inspires to the effort to reduce our 
knowledge to this form, by giving us the anticipation and belief that we shall find objects so 
constructed, and by rewarding every confirmation of this expectation with special satisfaction. 

. Classification and systemization, are the characteristics and 

The relation of . 

both to knowi- consequences of all thought-knowledge and preeminently of 
scientific knowledge. They are indispensable to enable us to 
grasp individual facts and to retain our observations. They are an intellec- 
tual convenience and an intellectual necessity. But they do not con- 
stitute the whole of thought or the whole of science. Though scientific 
knowledge is of necessity classified and arranged knowledge, yet much 
more than this is true of it. The order, beauty and symmetry of syste- 
matic arrangement is but the external indication and accompaniment of 
profounder relations than those of the similai'ity of attributes, making 
possible notions of fuller and scantier content, and of wider and narrower 
extent. 

We have entered within the threshold of our analysis and comprehension of thought-knowl- 
edge, and yet the light which shines from the inner sanctuary casts its radiance upon the objects 
which are the nearest to our view. Other acts remain for us to consider, involving profounder 
relations in the constitution of the universe, in the methods and forms of our thinking, and 
in the products which this thinking evolves. 

§ 395. It will not be amiss, however, to ask at this stage of 
sain by knowing our inquiries, wh at addition do we make to the knowledge 

which we gain by perception and consciousness by superin- 
ducing upon it the acts or processes of thought which we have thus far 
considered ? What do w r e know more about an object seen or experienced, 
by generalizing its attributes, determining its class, or assigning to it a 
name ? We may answer this question by asking two or three others. 
What more does a man know about a single apple by calling it an apple, 
a fruit, a plant-product, an organized being, than he does by looking^ 
feeling, tasting, and smelling it ? Or one might as properly ask, w r hat 
more does a mechanic know of the parts or the whole of a machine, as of 
a turning-lathe or steam engine, than does a savage ? The eye of the 



§396. THE FORMATION OF THE CONCEPT OK NOTION. 401 

latter may be far more keen, and his power of observation as sense-power 
may be more analytic and discriminating, and yet the mechanic, by the 
aid of concepts and names, sees far more than does the savage without 
them. What more is known in both these cases by the acts of thought : 
We answer, their common relations, i. e. properties, attributes, and uses. 

When we think or intelligently say of a sense-object it is an apple, we both think, and im- 
pliedly say of it, it is like a multitude of other sense-objects, in many most important respects, 
as of color, taste, size, etc. "When we think or know it to be a fruit, we enlarge still more 
widely the sphere or extent of the objects to which it holds relations. So when we think it to 
be a plant-product. The same is true of the greater knowledge which the mechanic possesses 
of the parts or the whole of a turning-lathe, or a steam-engine. He knows the objects to 
which these are related, or as we usually say, the relations of these objects, and the more 
numerous are the concepts under or by which they are known, the wider is the sphere of this 
knowledge. 

§ 396. The circumstance that classification results from the 
of^sfification 6 thought-process, has a greater importance than would seem 

at first to be indicated. As we class the objects, as a pippin, 
an apple, a fruit, a plant-product, an organized being, we do more than 
discern at each step new and more widely-reaching relations, — we seem 
to gain a deeper insight into the nature of the perceived object. This is 
owing to the circumstance, that the properties and relations which extend 
the most widely either are or indicate powers and laws which it is the 
problem of man to discover and apply as the elements and objects of 
scientific knowledge. 

That was no inconsiderable act which was signified by the 

The sismificance ,",.,■■, £ i • t • • ■, -i , 

of naming ob- record which describes the various living animals as brought 
to Adam that he might name them. The capacity to name 
implied an insight into their nature. For this reason it must of necessity 
be true, if we suppose the original man to have been endowed with the 
requisite discernment, that " whatsoever Adam called every living creature 
that was the name thereof." It seems to be a trifling thing for the child to be 
able to affix suitable names to the objects and beings which first attract 
its attention. At first thought the act is trivial, mechanical, parrot-like, 
as it were, to attach an articulate sound to one or more similar objects ; but 
when we reflect upon it as implying the power, as already in being or as- 
being stimulated to efficient activity, of intelligently applying this name to 
a large number of objects which are in many respects unlike and yet alike, 
it becomes an act of the gravest import. It indicates a most important 
development of the soul's action, an awakening of it in a new direction,, 
and the evolution of a new product. 

When the child asks, What is it ? meaning thereby, What is it called ? it really asks, What 

is the nature, or what the relations of the object? When the name is given in reply, and the' 

child is satisfied, it has a better reason to be content than it seems to have, or than it itself 

knows of, for in the name it has the means of enlarging its knowledge of the objects to which 

26 



402 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 397. 

the name belongs, as it learns one by one what they are, and notices in what they are alike 

and in what they are unlike. 

That the name does, as it were, take up into itself and is ready to give up arxJ 

The varying im- reproduce the knowledge of relations indicated by the concept can be easilv 

port of the con- • ■,,,./. n , ™ 

cept Salt. illustrated by the import or any common term, as tor example, Salt. The 

child first learns to apply this word to a certain well-known substance, the 

common table salt, and to recognise in this article, however different it may be in solidity, color, 

tasto, certain common characteristics which entitle it to this appellation. It afterwards learns 

to apply it to other substances, which on account of their pungent taste and other properties, 

as crystalline character, the processes by which they are formed, etc., have been vulgarly 

called salts. This involves, of course, an enlargement of its extent. 

When, with the progress of chemical science, more is known about table-salt, e. g., that it 

is the chloride of sodium, the import of the concept is changed and enlarged in accordance 

with this new and more accurate knowledge. Or it may be stated more exactly, we have 

another concept with the same extent and name. 

It might be added that if the term takes into its import a metaphorical signification, as of 
sprightliness or wit, then this is also indicated by the word. By such an example we see and 
show how great an amount of relative knowledge is represented in a single concept, and how 
the same concept and word enlarge themselves to receive and represent the added import 
which progressive knowledge discerns and acquires : both expanding their capacity to store 
away and retain all that the mind appropriates. 

That was no slight achievement of Aristotle, to seize upon, bring out and establish the 
truth that the concept of an object either declares what it is or at least indicates the direction 
which must be taken in order to find this. The concept is the permanent ivhat-ness or what-sort- 
of-ness, which may be thought of the things to which it is applied. It is the rb ri l\v clvou, i. e. 
its real and permanent nature. To ask what a thing is, according to Aristotle, is to take the 
first step and perform the first of the processes which are essential to its complete mastery. 
It is to propose the first of those questions, the answers to all of which carry the mind through 
the entire circle of scientific knowledge. 

The other two are Sia t! and ov eVexa, viz. ; whence, or by what causes or means', and what for, or to 
what end or design, — the first giving the relation of efficient, and the second that of final cause. 

Aristotle also recognises the intimate connection of the concept with the word, calling the two by 
the same term, 6 Adyos. 

For an explanation of the phrase to ti ?jv elvcu and of the one nearly allied, to ri e<m see Trendelenburg 
De an. p. 192 sqq., also Ehein. Mus. 1828. Heft 4, p. 457 sqq., also Geschichte der Kat. p. 34 eqq. 

delation of § 39 ^- Thought-knowledge is sometimes contrasted with 

knowledge by presentative or intuitive knowledge to its disadvantage, by- 
concepts and by -^ _? ■ • .- . ^o t j 

intuitions. such representations as these : No definition can give any- 

adequate impression of the objects which we discern by perception or experi- 
ence in consciousness : A moment's inspection of an object, as of a turning- 
lathe, a steam-engine, or any implement of labor or art, is worth more than 
the most elaborate description by words, or the most precise and full 
enumeration of its constituents. So it is often said, an hour's experience 
oi' mental or moral activity, and the actual exercise of the love of the 
rio-ht or of God, is worth more than a whole system of ethical or 
religious philosophy. 

This in one sense is true, in another it is false and misleading. Simple 
inspection by perception can give very little knowledge of the object? 



§ 398. THE !N"ATUEE OF THE CONCEPT. SKETCH OF THEORIES. 403 

named. It is inspection or experience attended and enlightened by 
thought, which instructs the mind. It is perception, with comparison of 
like or unlike properties, powers and adaptations, which is unfairly con 
trasted with definition and description. 

It is true, that thought with intuition is greatly to be preferred to thought without intuition, 
out in cases where intuition cannot be had, the definition or description by concepts and term? 
are no mean substitute. Often they accomplish that which is of most importance ; the con 
veyance to the mind of a knowledge of those relations which are of the greatest significance, aa 
of common properties, common causes, common laws, and common uses ; all of which are, for 
the purposes of science and of practice, not only the most important relations but those only 
which are of any considerable use. Intuition gratifies other capacities, as those of sensuous or 
emotional pleasure. It both satisfies and stimulates the curiosity. It enables the inquiring 
or sceptical mind to verify the assertions of others by personal observation. It brings the 
opportunity to make fresh and independent judgments and inductions of our own. But the end 
of intuition is not found in itself, but in the thought-knowledge to which it excites and 
directs. 

The what which the concept and the word both propose to communicate, is not the direct 
observation which presentation gives, but the higher and more comprehensive knowledge which 
thought aims to achieve. It is not the knowledge that a being is, but the analytic and compara- 
tive knowledge of its relations. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. SKETCH OF THEORIES. 

En the preceding chapter we have considered the nature of the concept in a general way, so 
far as was required in the analysis and explanation of the psychological process by which 
it is formed. As a metaphysical and logical question it has been fruitful of discussion in 
the schools of ancient and modern philosophy. From Plato to John Stuart Mill, it has 
been the perpetual theme for discussion and controversy. The history of the various theo- 
ries which have been held is not merely interesting as a subject of curious speculation, 
and as the key to much of the history of philosophy ; but it is most instructive as enabling 
us to understand the nature and reach of language, as well as as the grounds of our faith 
in philosophy itself, and in the special sciences of which philosophy is the foundation. 
We return to it a second time for more careful consideration, as a necessary preliminary 
to which we shall give a brief sketch of the history of the theories which have been 
taught in the ancient and modern schools. 

§398. The nature of the concept and its relation to real or existing objects has been 
The doctrines of *^ e occas i on of endless speculation, of fantastic theories, and of sharp and persistent 
Socrates and Pla- controversies in every period distinguished by philosophical inquiry. Socrates was the 
to. first to insist upon the importance of forming concepts of the objects of our knowledge 

in order that the permanent and essential might be eliminated from that which is acci- 
dental and transitory in individual objects. But he.taught little or nothing in respect to the nature of tho 
concept, or of that in the object to which the concept is the counterpart or correlate. Plato took up the 
inquiry where Socrates left it ; insisting more abundantly than he upon the necessity of this higher knowl- 
edge, and showing that in attaining it we must define and divide— must go from the individual to the 
general, by successive inductions, and so on from one step to another, till we reach that which exists of and 



404 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 399. 

by itself— that which is alone the permanent object of [true] knowledge. This is the idea ^ ISia or to eioos. 
We attain to this by forming separate concepts, which -we successively test and reject, till at last they revea! 
'he idea. This idea is, however, not itself a concept, vorjua, though concepts enable us to find it. It is 
rather that in the object which prompts us to form those tentative concepts which enable us to discover the 
idea itself. But what this idea is, and what are its relations to the concept, he does not accurately teach ; 
where it exists he does not assert ; whether in the object itself, or in the mind of the Creator, or in the 
mind of each thinking man, he does not define. He seems to teach that ideas, or Hie idea, have an exist- 
?nce and essence separate from all these, that they are eternal and incorruptible, existing before all tem- 
porary and perishable beings, and imparting to the perishable and phenomenal in these beings all their dig- 
nity and interest. Ideas are realities, things and events are their shadows. Ideas have a sphere and place ol 
their own, etc., etc. But whether by these representations, he intends only personification and poetic fiction, 
or sober scientific definition, is not always easy to decide. This much is certain ; that the idea with Plato 
stands for the objective correlate of the concept so far as the idea is within our reach, and that it is by obtain- 
ing concepts of objects as we may, that we approximate towards the knowledge of ideas. To the nature of the 
concept itself, as a psychological product, and its relation to the real or the ideal, he gives little attention, 
and of it furnishes no definition. Aristotle, following Plato, justly charges him with treating his ideas as 
existences or substances which could exist separately from individual objects or things, and compares the&p, 
uypostasized entities to the anthropomorphic deities of the Greek mythology, which must assume the 
forms of men, and when they did so were only known as wearing the garb and as performing the actions 
of men, and yet, separately from these forms, could not be known "by mortals. 

§ 399. As against Plato, Aristotle insists that the only real beings or substances are ex- 
• u , isting beings or things, the irpSirat oiaiai, as he calls them. He is distinctly aware that 

Aristotelians. there are other sorts of beings besides these. The Sevrepai ovciat, are distinctly discrim- 

inated from the irponai overeat, or individual beings. He aims to show in what sense 
the former are so called, and how they are related to real beings, or, in modern phrase- 
ology, to show the relation of concepts to real existences. His aims are, however, more satisfactory than 
his achievements. This is explained by the fact, that his treatment of the concept is metaphysical and 
objective rather than psychological and subjective. That is, he treats the concept as an object of the mind's 
analysis and contemplation, rather than as a result of the mind's producing— as a product already created, 
rather than as a result which the mind must evolve in accordance with the laws of its activity and the rela- 
tions of the objects concerned. Hence he left the problem unadjusted, as a legacy to his disciples— a meta- 
physical question to be discussed and debated, and not a question of fact and psychology to be inquired 
into by the study of the mental operations as revealed to consciousness. 

Psychologically, Aristotle goes so far as to discriminate the TrpatTat. oio-iai from the Sevrepai ova-Lai. 
Ovcrta Si ianv 17 nvpuarara re ical jrpwros, Kal /xaAiora \eyop.iv7], tj p.rJTe naQ' viroKetp.evov twos Xiyerat, [irJTe 
ev iuroKeijoieva) tivi eartv, olov 6 tIs avOpoinos, Kal 6 tls ltttto?. Cat., ch. iii., n. 1. The first is the only real 
being or substance. The second is not properly a substance, but only in appearance, it really in the last 
analysis signifies a quality. (Cat., chap. iii. n. 16.) In modern phrase, the SevTepai ovo-iai are Universals, 
and these are the procliicts of the mind's own activity, and separately from this, have no proper existence 
of their own. They are resolvable into, and signify some quality. All the being which they have comes 
from this, that the mind asserts or predicates certain qualities of real beings, or irpuirai oicriai. Hence, in a 
derived, secondary, or representative sense, they themselves are called beings ; the beings of the mind, or 
secondary beings. 

But Aristotle does not always, nor usually hold to this distinction. "Whether or not it was clearly 
present to his own mind, may be a question in respect to which some difference of opinion should fairly 
exist. It is certain that he does not always impress it forcibly upon the minds of his readers. When he 
discusses the form and matter of substances or beings, t*. e., when he gives a metaphysical analysis of the 
essential elements of being, it is not certain or clear, whether he has in mind real beings, i. e., individuals, 
or secondary beings, i. e., Universals. The distinction between the eiSos and uAtj, or form and matter, was 
thus explained. Matter cannot exist without form. For every being has some determinate form. There 
can be no form without matter. The one requires the other. The two are correlates, seeking each other, 
as Aristotle figuratively speaks', by a natural appetency. The form only is conceived by the mind. What 
the mind conceives of a being is its essence, to tC %v elvai. In modern language the concept is made up of 
the essential qualities that are common to several individuals, omitting those which are undiscriminated. 
Thus far the distinction is applied to individual substances or beings. 

When form and matter are affirmed of the Sevrepai oiaiai as especially discriminated from the nptarai 
ov<ruu, the distinction is illustrated by the logical definition or view of the epecies. Here the species as a 
determinate form of the genus, is itself the eiSos— i. e., the differentia, and that which is essential and defina- 
ble. The genus is the matter ; it is supposed but not defined, as when we speak of the whale or the shark 
as a species of animal, animal is the indefinite matter, common to all these beings indiscriminately— what 
is thus common takes form in the whale, the shark, etc. The species as conceived by Aristotle, was, how- 
ever, not the so-called nominal essence such as can be Constructed by the mind ad libitum by the addition 
of any differentia to any combination called generic, but it was an actually existing class— preeminently 
«uoh as exist in the animal creation. The permanent characteristics of such, i\ e., their logical properties 



§401. 



THE NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. SKETCH OF THEORIES. 40i 



or differentiae, i. e., their real conditions, were taken as separate forces or forms, which, acting with matter 
produced or constituted the species. Generally— the matter is the form iv Swa^ei, the form is thu mattei 
V ivepyeia— the one is possible and tending toward reality ; is waiting for appropriate conditions, as we 
should say. The other is actual : that is, the conditions being present, the result consequently follows 
in a realized or actualized form. The completed realization kv ivepyeia, of the matter ev Swifxei is th« 

Aristotle set out with the determination to avoid those personifications which so abound in Plato. 
But he did not entirely succeed. Should we concede that he was not betrayed himself into hypostasizing 
*;hese metaphors, he did not secure his disciples from this error. So it happened that the ideas of Plate 
and the forms of Aristotle were both regarded as actual realities, and as such, furnished fruitful material 
for the subtleties and controversies of their earlier disciples and commentators, in the decadence of the 
Greek philosophy. 

p , §400. It was, however, among the scholastics of the middle ages that such discus- 

305. His* ques- s i ons became conspicuous, in the schools of the Nominalists, the Realists, and the Con- 
tion.s. _ ceptualists. The immediate occasion of these discussions and controversies was 

Boethius. 470 ? furnished by a passage from Porphyry, in the preface to his Introduction to the Cate- 
gories of Aristotle. This Introduction was translated from the Greek by Boethius, and 
this passage became the problem for the different sects which we have named — who received their appella- 
tions from the different solutions which they gave to it. " Mox de generibus et speciebus, illud quidem 
sive subsistent, sive in soils nudis intellectibus posita sint, sive subsistentia corporalia sint an incorpo- 
ralia, et utrum separata a sensibilibus posita circa hsec consistentia dicere recusabo. Altissimum enim 
negotium est hujus modi et majoris egens inquisitionis." In other words, the questions which naturally 
suggest themselves concerning Universals are the following : 

* Have Universale a separate existence or do they exist in the mind only ? If they have a separate 
existence, are they corporeal or incorporeal ? Are they separable from sensible objects or do they subsist 
in these only ? * 

-jy, t> . . The extreme Realists answered these questions in the spirit of Plato, or rather of 

The Conceptual- tne doctrine which Aristotle ascribed to Plato, viz. : that Universals have an existence 
i3ts._ The Nom- that is separate from and independent of individual objects. They even contended 
inahsts. T h e ^jj a ^ they exist before them, in rank and creative power, or at least in point of time, 
motto of each. „,, . -',.,..-. , „ . f. 

These views were formulated in the motto Universalia ante rem. 

The moderate Realists adopted the creed of Aristotle that Universals have a real existence, but only in 
individuals. Their motto consequently became Universalia in re. 

The Conceptualists and Nominalists agreed in this that individuals alone have real existence ; and 
that Universals, both genera and species, are formed by the mind, by bringing together many similar 
objects, and designating them by common terms. 

They differ in that the extreme Nominalists held that the name only is general and is employed to 
avoid an indefinite number of proper names which would be otherwise required; while the Conceptualists 
interposed a concept between the name and the objects collected into a class. The motto of both Concept- 
ualists and Nominalists was Universalia post rem. 

§ 401. The differences of opinion that ripened into these separate philosophical sects be- 
gan to be manifest in the ninth and tenth.centuries. It was not, however, till the second 
The Scholastics, half of the eleventh that different philosophers and theologians were known by these 
appellations, and that the doctrines themselves became the occasion of earnest and 
bitter strife. These reappeared at intervals and were not finally terminated before 
early in the fourteenth. 

(Heiricus) Eric of Auxerre, in the early part of the ninth century, wrote as follows : 

" Sciendum autem quia propria nomina primum sunt innumerabilia ; ad quae cognoscenda 

9th Century intellectus nullus seu memoria sufficit, hajc ergo omnia coartata species comprehendit 

et facit primum gradum, qui latissimus est, etc., etc., etc. Sed quia haec rursus erant 

innumerabilia et incomprehensibilia, alter factus est gradus angustior, ita constat in 

genere quod est animal, surculus et lapis ; iterum haec genera, in unum coacta nomen, tertium fecerunt 

gradum arctissimum et angustissimum, utpote qui uno nomine solum modo constet, quod est usia." 

Again, " Si quis dixerit album et nigrum absolute sine propria et certa substantia, in qua con- 
tinetur, per hoc non poterit certam rem ostendere, nisi dicat albus homo vel equus aut niger." 

Still farther, an unknown writer, either Rhabanus Maurus or a scholar of his writes as follows, on 
Porphyry's Introduction : " Res enim non praedicatur. Quod hoc modo probant : si res praedicatur, res 
dicitur, si res dicitur, res enunciatur, si res enunciatur, res profertur ; sed res proferri non potest, nihil 
enim profertur nisi vox, neque enim aliud est prolatio, quam aeris plectro linguae percussio." 

Roscellinus or Roscellin, canon at Compiegne in the second half of the eleventh centu- 
ry, was the first recognized Nominalist. His teachings chi efiy attracted attention in con- 
\ 1106. ? sequence of the application which he made of them to the doctrine of the Trinity. 

His views of this doctrine were condemned by a church council at Soissons, 1092, and 
he retracted the doctrine which gave offence, but seems afterwards to have taught hij 



406 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §401. 

Nominalistic views without molestation. But lie founded no school and left no followers among the teach- 
ers in the schools. Hoscellin was earnestly opposed by his contemporary, Anselm of Canterbury. "William 
of Champeaux represented the most extreme realism in Prance, and Abelard also, though much less 
extreme as a Realist, rejected the doctrines of his teacher Hoscellin. 

Hoscellin left no writings and only a letter on the Trinity to Abelard. We are forced to take our 
jiew of his opinions from the accounts of his opponents. Anselm says : "Illi nostri temporis dialectic], 
:mmo dialectices hasretici, qui non nisi flatum voois putant esse universales substantias ; qui colorerc 
nihil aliud queunt intelligerc quam corpus, ncc sapientiam hominis aliud quam animani." (De fid. 
trin. c. 2.) 

William of Champeaux studied under Hoscellin, but adopted extreme Realism. Abe- 
William of lar( * sa y s °f bin* • " Erat autem in ea sententia de communitate universalium, ut 
Champeaux. eandem essentialiter rem totam simul singulis suis inesse adstrueret individuis, quorum 

1070-1121. nulla esset diversitas sed sola multitudini accidentium varietas." To this Abelard 

objects — the same substance must then admit various accidents which are incompatible 
with one anotner, and the same must be in different places. "William, on this, modified his statement by 
substituting individualiler, or as others read, indifferenter, in place of essentialiter. 

Abelard, 1079-1143, who studied under both Hoscellin and William of Champeaux, 

avoided the extremes of either, without committing himself to a very definite and con- 

1142 ' ' ~ sistei1 * doctrine upon the subject. He taught that the universal is not simply vox but 

sermo, and has therefore been called a Conceptualist. John of Salisbury, his pupil, 

says of him : "Alius sermones intuetur et ad illos detorquet quicquid alicubi de uni- 

versalibus meminit scriptum ; in hac autem opinione deprehensus est peripateticus Palatinus Abselardus 

noster ; rem de re praedicari monstrum dicunt." He says himself: " Nee rem ullam de pluribus dici sed 

nomen tantum concedimus." On the other hand he says : " Nihil est definitum nisi declaratum secundum 

6ignificationem vocabulum." 

What this signification is and on what in things it depends, he does not explain. In respect to the pre- 
existence of Universals, he accepts the doctrine of Plato, under the form in which he conceives it, by 
making the ideas which are the forms of things to exist eternally in the divine mind. " Ad hunc modum 
Plato formas.exemplares in mente divina considerat quas ideas appellat et ad quas postmodum quasi ad 
exemplar quoddam summi artificis providentia operata est." (Introd. ad Theol. I., p. 987.) " Sic et Ma- 
crobki3. Somn. Scip. I., 2. 14. Platonem insecutus mentem Dei, quam Grseci Noyn appellant, origi- 
nates rerum species quae ideae dictce sunt, continere meminit antequam etiam, inquit Priscianus, in corpora 
prodirent, h. e. in effecta operum provenirent." (lb. II., p. 1095.) 

Albertus Magnus reconciles the three doctrines in respect to Universals, by saying that 
they were ante rem in the divine mind, in re as connected with individual objects, and 
ruis 1193^'>8o" post rem as se P arate<i by rne Process of abstraction, i, e., as concepts in the mind of 
man. 

" Et tunc resultant tria formarum genera ; unum quidem ante rem existens, quod 
est causa formativa ; aliud autem est ipsum genus formarum quod abstrahente intellectu separatur a 
rebus.'" (De not. et orig. an. tr. I. 2.) " Esse universale est formse et non materise." (De int. et intell., 
I. 2, 3.) 

Thomas Aquinas made similar distinctions and taught the same doctrine : " Formse 

quae sunt in materia, venerunt a formis quae sunt sine materia et, quantum ad hoc, 

nomas ^qui- ver ifi ca tur dictum Platonis, quod formse separatee sunt principia formarum quae sunt 

in materia, licet posuerit eas per se subsistentes et causantes immediate formas sensi- 

bilium ; nos vero ponimus eas in intellectu existentes et causantes formas inferiores per 

motum cceli." (Con. Gen., III. 24.) " Credidit Plato quod forma cogniti ex necessitate Bit in cognoscente 

eo modo quo est in cognito, et ideo existimavit quod operteret res intellectas hoc modo in se ipsis subsistere, 

sc. immaterialiter et immobiliter. (Sum. theol.j I. 81.) 

" Quia licet principia specie! vel generis nunquam sint nisi in individuis, tamen potest apprehendi 
animal sine homine, asino at aliis speciebus." (Depot, au., c. 6.) 

" Universalia ex hoc quod sunt universalia non habent esse per se in sensibilibus, quia universalitas 
ipsa est in anima." (De Universalibus, tr 2.) 

John Duns Scotus agreed with the two preceding in respect to the nature of Universals 
and their relation to matter, with one exception. They made the principle of individ- 
John Duns nation to lie in the matter by virtue of which when united to the form, i. e., the Uni- 

versal, each individual came to be what it is. But Duns Scotus recognized what ho 
called a separate principle besides, viz., the hsecceitas. The hsecceilas in conjunction 
with the quidditas constitute the individual thing. 

William of Occam was distinguished as the reviver of the Nominnlistic theory. His 
doctrine is expressed in the following extracts : " Entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter 
ram. iai Tl347 °" necessitatem. Sufficiunt singularia et ita tales res universales omnino frustra^ ponuntur. 
Scientia est do rebus singularibus, quod pro ipsis singularibus termini supponunt, i. e., 
tantidem significant. 



£ 403. THE NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. SKETCH OP THEORIES. 403 

A Universal is defined by him as " conceptus mentis significant univoce plura singulaiia," having ex 
fetence in the mind, not subjectively only, but also objectively. 

" Idere (i. c, Universals in the divine mind) sunt primo singularium et non sunt specierum quit 
.psa singularia sola sunt extra producibilia et nulla alia." 

The tendency of Occam's theory was to limit our scientific knowledge of God and to exalt faith a3 
the source and principal foundation of theology. Occam was the last who needs to be named in this sketch 
of the history of opinions. The discussion of the subject did not cease with his death, for his opinions 
vere represented and defended by able disciples. But as Scholasticism itself gave way before the 
various influences which enlarged the knowledge and occupied the attention of the learned, the discussion 
Df this question became less important. 

§ 402. It is very common to think and speak with wonder, if not with contempt, of the 
These discus- strifes between the Nominalists and Realists. The modern critic often congratulates 
sions not deserv- ^ e men f jjj s own times that they are not distracted by controversies at once so triv- 
contempt? * a * an< * fruitless. He asks himself how it could be possible, that what seems to him 

only a metaphysical subtlety or a trivial logomachy, should have occasioned so great 
acrimony between the parties and schools concerned, and should have even embroiled their rulers in both 
church and state, with one another in bitter and bloody contention. The proper answer to this question 
is found in the consideration, that the logical opinions taught were immediately applied to theological 
doctrines, and the inferences which the opposite opinions warranted In fact or were supposed to warrant, 
in respect to the received docrines of the church, invested them with the supremest importance. The 
Nominalist was persecuted by the Realist, and the Realist denounced the Nominalist — not as a Nominalist 
or Realist, but as teaching principles which, in their consequences, were deemed hostile to the doctrines or 
the authority of the church. Viewed in this light, the earnestness and bitterness with which these dis- 
putes were conducted should occasion no surprise ; certainly no greater surprise than that the philosophy 
of Mr. Hume, Mr. J. S. Mill, Mr. Herbert Spencer, or Mr. Mansel should now be judged by its relations to 
theological opinion. 

But the narrow range which this discussion took, and the endless reiteration of the same proposi- 
tions and the same arguments, are criticised as inexplicable. These features of the controversy are not 
surprising to one who reflects upon the scanty literature which was at the command of the schoolmen, and 
the extreme deference which they paid to the authorities whom they acknowledged. Then literature was 
at first a portion only of the logical treatises of Aristotle, of course in Latin versions, and a part of a trans- 
lation of the Timseus of Plato. The chief source of their knowledge of the ancient systems was the writ- 
ings of St. Augustin. There was none of that enlarged knowledge of man which the classic literature and 
ancient history might afford, none of that knowledge of nature which the observations of Aristotle, Pliny, 
and Strabo might have given, none of that independence of judgment which a better method of observing 
the facts of nature would have ensured. The education of the schoolmen was logical on the narrowest 
foundation ; and as soon as dexterity in logical gymnastics was secured, it was shut up to the sole service 
of training others to expound and defend certain dogmas already fixed and defined by the church. 

The subject matter was not trivial, for it is yet under discussion. Prom Aristotle to Mill, from Plato 
to Hegel, the same questions have been discussed again and again, and with as much earnestness now as 
then. Indeed, the discoveries of modern science and the modern questions respecting the foundations of 
Induction and of Theological Truth, invest these questions at the present moment with a deeper interest 
and a more profound importance than they could possibly have had when discussed by Roscellin and An- 
selm, or by Abelard and Occam. Our respect for the schoolmen will not be diminished when we trace the 
progress of this controversy in modern times and among recent philosophers. 

§ 403. In modern times the diversities of opinion in respect to the nature of the con- 
Mod Q ru Philos- ce P* nave been as great, and the controversies well nigh as active as they were among 
ophers. Thomas the schoolmen. The same questions have in fact been agitated, and the same difficulties 
Hobbes. encountered, with this difference — that the form which these questions have taken has 

been more generally psychological, rather than metaphysical. This was no more than 
was to be expected from the general course of modern philosophy. In the more recent German specula- 
tions, the logical and metaphysical direction of thought has preponderated over the psychological and in- 
ductive. 

Our sketch of these opinions begins with Hobbes, a Nominalist of the extremest school, of whom 
Leibnitz says, De Slilo, etc. : " Ut credam ipsum Occamuni non fuisse nominaliorem. quam nunc est 
Thomas Hobbes, qui ut verum fatear, mihi plusquam nominalior videter." In his Human Nature (c. 5, § 6) 
he says : " The Universality of one name to many things hath been the cause that men think the things 
themselves are universal ; and so seriously contend that besides Peter and John and all the rest of the 
men that are, have been, or shall be in the world, there is something else that we call man, viz. : man in 
general, deceiving themselves, by taking the universal or general appellation for the thing it signifieth. 1 ' 
* * * "It is plain, therefore, there is nothing Universal but Names." In The Leviathan (p. i., c. iv.) he 
says : "There being nothing Universal but names, for the things named are every one of them Individual 
and Singular, one Universal name is imposed on many things for their similitude in some quality oi 
accident." 



I 



408 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 406 

§ 404. Locke, on the other hand, was a Conceptualist. That he holds to the power of 
the mind to form abstract ideas is evident from his direct assertion in the Essay (B. IV. 
John Locke. c. vii. §9). "Does it not require some pains and skill to form the general idea of a 

triangle, [which is yet none of the most abstract, comprehensive, and difficult,] for it 
must be neither oblique, nor rectangle, neither equilateral, equicrural, nor scalenon ; 
but all and none of these at once. In effect, it is something imperfect that cannot exist ; [*. c, in fact, or 
actually,] an idea wherein some parts of several different and inconsistent ideas are put together. 'Tis 
true the mind in this imperfect state has need of such Ideas, and makes all the haste to them it can, for 
the conveniency of communication, and enlargement of knowledge." That he was not a Realist appears 
from the following (B. III. c. iii. § 11 sqq.) : * * " It is plain by what has been said, that General and 
Universal, belong not to the real existence of things ; but are the inventions and creatures of the under- 
standing, made by it for its own use, and concern only signs, whether words or ideas." " "When therefore 
we quit particulars the generals that rest [remain] are creatures of our own making, their general nature 
being nothing but the capacity they are put to by the understanding, of signifying or representing 
many particulars." He argues at length against the Realistic doctrine of permanent essences or species. 
"Whereby it is plain that the essences of the sorts, or (if the Latin term please better) "species of things, 
are nothing else but these abstract ideas." " To be a man or of the species man, and to have a right to the 
name man, is the same thing. Again, to be a man, or of the same species man, and have the essence of a 
man, is the same thing." "I would not here be thought to forget, much less to deny, that Nature in the 
production of things, makes several of them alike," etc. u But yet I think we may say the sorting of them 
under names, is the workmanship of the understanding, talcing occasion from the similitude it observes 
amongst them, to make abstract general ideas and set them up in the mind as patterns or forms [for in 
that sense the word form has a very proper signification] to which, as particular things existing are found 
to agree, so they come to be of that species, or are put into that class." That there are no real essences 
or forms in things he argues from the fact that different men do not always divide species ordefine their 
ideas of them alike, that it is often difficult to tell to what species some individuals belong, as whether a 
hat is a bird or a beast ; whether a human monster is indeed a man, etc. ; from the fact that all existing 
things are changeable and corruptible, while our abstract ideas of a circle, a mermaid, or a horse, are fixed 
and permanent, because they exist in the mind. 

§ 405. To these doctrines of Locke, Leibnitz, in his JVouveaux Essais, takes the follow- 
ing exceptions : He denies that the essence of the species is only an. abstract idea, and 
G. "W*. Leibnitz, asserts that the generality of such ideas consists in the mutual resemblance of individual 
things, and this resemblance is a reality. (JYouv. Ess., B. III. c. iii. § 11 .) To the argu- 
ment that different men class individuals into species diversely, he replies, that the fact 
that we cannot always judge correctly of the interior nature of objects by their external resemblances, does 
not disprove that there is such a nature or essence. (§ 14.) He defines the essence of a thing or its species, to 
be nothing more nor less than the possibility of that which we propound, i. e., in a definition. That 
which we believe to be possible is expressed in a definition. It is a nominal essence when it is possible— it 
is real when it is believed actually to exist, d posteriori, or by experience. If we knew the causes of 
being we should know the same d priori, through the reason. (§ 15.) See also Meditationes de cognitione, 
etc., in which he makes a similar distinction between nominal and real definitions — the nominal giving 
the distinguishing marks of a thing, the real the grounds of its possible existence or truth. In the same 
Essay he is supposed by Hamilton and others to make an important distinction in respect to the nature of 
the concept, by distinguishing symbolical from intuitive knowledge (§ 427). 

In another treatise, De stilo philosophico Nizolii, he praises the Nominalists, and Hobbes among 
them (§28), and yet criticises their doctrine (§31) that a Universal is nothing but a number of individuals 
taken collectively, urging that the Universal is not applicable to the class taken as a whole, but to each 
individual of the class— or *o the class taken distributively. 

§ 406. Berkeley, Introduction to the Principles of Human Knoivledge, thus attacks the 
Geo Berkelev doctrine of Locke. After describing the doctrine as commonly received, he proceeds : 
and. David " "Whether others have this wonderful faculty of abstracting their ideas, they best can 
Hume. ^11 ; f or myself I find, indeed, I have a faculty of imagining, or representing to myself 
the ideas of those particular things I have perceived, and of variously compounding and 
dividing them. I can imagine a man with two heads, or the upper parts of a man joined to the body of a horse. 
I can consider the hand, the eye, the nose, each by itself abstracted or separated from the rest of the body, 
but then whatever hand or eye I imagine must have some particular shape and color. Likewise the idea 
of man that I frame to myself, must be either of a white, or a black, or a tawny, a straight or a crooked, a 
tall, or a low, or a middle-sized man But I deny that I can abstract one from another or con- 
ceive separately those qualities which it is impossible should exist so separated ; or that I can frame a 
general notion by abstracting from particulars in the manner aforesaid." And yet Berkeley, in another 
passage concedes the power of abstraction so far as this : " A man may consider a figure merely as trian- 
gular, without attending to the particular qualities of the angles or relations of the sides. So far he may 
abstract. But this will never prove that he can frame an abstract, general, inconsistent idea of a tri- 
angle." In respect to generalization also, he concedes the following : " An idea, which considered in 



§409. THE NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. SKETCH OF THEORIES. 409 

; tself, is particular, becomes general by being made to represent or stand for all other particular ideas of 
tbe same sort. To make this plain by an example : suppose a geometrician is demonstrating the method 
of cutting a line into two equal parts. He draws for instance, a black line, of an inch in length. This, 
which is itself a particular line, is nevertheless, with regard to its signification, general ; since as it is 
there used, it represents all particular lines whatsoever ; . . . . and so the name line, which taken abso- 
lutely is particular, by being a sign is made general." 

Hume agrees with Berkeley, adopting nearly his language. "A great philosopher has disputed tha 
received opinion on this particular, and has asserted that all general ideas are nothing but particular ones 
annexed to a certain term, which gives them a more extensive signification, and makes them recall upon 
occasion other individuals which are similar to them. A particular idea becomes general, by being an- 
nexed to a general term; that is, to a term which, from a customary conjunction, has a relation to- many 
other particular ideas, and readily recalls them to the imagination. Abstract ideas are therefore in them- 
selves individual, however they may become general in their representation. The image in the mind is 
only that of a particular object, though the application of it in our reasoning be the same as if it was uni- 
versal." The only difference between Hume and Berkeley is, that Berkeley makes the particular idea to 
represent the general, while Hume adds that it becomes general by being annexed to a term which is cus- 
tomarily conjoined with many particular ideas, and readily recalls them. In ether words, Hume intro- 
duces his doctrine of the association of ideas to explain how one idea and term can represent several objects, 
and become general. "We shall see how this view has been expanded and re-applied by later writers. 

§ 407. Reid, in criticising both Hume and Berkeley, does not give his own views in the 
Thomas Reid form of a statement precisely defined. He seems scarcely to know what his own opinio; i 
and Dugald is. in respect, however, to the question under consideration, and the nature of the con- 
cept, he lays down some important distinctions which are quite in advance of the doc- 
trines previously admitted. He observes (1) that a general idea must be the product of 
an individual act of the mind, and in that sense and so far, is an individual, and not a general, entity. •_'. 
" Universals cannot be the objects of imagination when we take that word in its strict and proper sense."' 
" Every man will find in himself * * * that he cannot imagine a man without color, or stature, or 
shape." " I can distinctly conceive universals, but I cannot imagine them." 3. " Ideas are said to have a 
real existence in the mind, at least while we think of them, but universals have no real existence. "When 
we ascribe existence to them, it is not an existence in time or place, but existence in some individual sub- 
ject ; and this existence means no more, but that they are truly attributes of such a subject. Their existence. 
is nothing but predicabilily, or the capacity of being attributed to a subject." Essays on the Intellectual Pow- 
ers. Essay V. c. vi. 

Dugald Stewart (Elements, c. iv. §§ 2, 3) adds nothing to the discussion or elucidation of the subject, 
except to call attention to the ambiguity of the words conception and idea, and to more than intimate that the 
doctrine of the nominalist is correct, that we can neither generalize nor reason except by the aid of language. 
§ 408. Brown (Lectures 46, 47) avows himself to be a conceptualist, and contends that all 
the nominalists have either in fact admitted or unconsciously implied the truth of this 
Dr. Thomas doctrine. He distinguishes three steps or elements in the generalizing process (1) ' the 
perception or conception of two or more objects, (2) the relative feeling of their resem- 
blance in certain respects, (3) the designation of these circumstances of resemblance by 
an appropriate name.' He criticises some expressions of the conceptualists as incautious, particularly 
the use of the word idea to express " the feeling of resemblance," because this word " seems almost in 
itself to imply something which can be individualized and offered to the senses." " The same remark 
may, in a great measure, be applied to the use of the word conception, which also seems to individualize its 
object." " The phrase general notion would have been far more appropriate." ' Still more unfortunate is a 
verbal impropriety in the use of the indefinite article.' " It was not the mere general notion of the nature 
and properties of triangles, but the general idea of a triangle of which writers * * have been accus- 
tomed to speak." This has exposed the doctrine of general notions to ridicule, such as Martinus Scriblerus 
Is made to use against Locke. 

"We may add that the language which Brown employs continually in such phrases as " the feeling of 
resemblance," has left the impression that the notion itself is a merely subjective product evolved by the 
laws of association, and is therefore as accidental and capricious as the feelings of an individual might 
happen to be. This has opened the way for, and given sanction to the views adopted by J. S. Mill and 
ethers, which overlook the objective reality of the ground of this feeling in the actual resemblances of na- 
ture and the permanent laws and powers of which these are the indications. Against all such views, and 
the tendency to adopt them, or even to sanction them by incautious language, the protest of Leibnitz 
against Locke, quoted above, is most timely : "The generality of universals consists in the mutual resem- 
blance of individual things, and this resemblance is a reality" 

§ 409. Hamilton (Lectures on Metaphysics, Lee. 35) criticises Brown severely for misrep- 
resenting the nominalists, in asserting that they overlook the fact that resemblance in 
Sir William individual objects is the ground of applying to them universal names. Brown may 
have overlooked these concessions, but he certainly did not misstate the chief objections 
to their theory. Hamilton then labors earnestly to show that discerned or predicated 



410 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §410. 

resemblance is individual, and not general ; inasmuch, as if likeness exists between a pair of objects, il 
must b« an individual relation of likeness. In this be is clearly in the wrong. My act in discerning the- 
ikeness of two objects, as two eggs, is an individual act, but tbe relation discerned, tbe likeness, is certainly 
common to, i. e., equally afflrmable of, tbe two eggs, and so far forth a general conception or nolion. lie 
then adds that we are unfortunate in that the English language is not provided, like the German, witfc 
terms appropriate to universal and individual objects. "We have no terms like Begriff and Anschauung. 
But what the Begritf signifies, whether a name or a concept, he does not explain. He only asserts that the 
peculiarity of the Begriff consists in its being the product of the faculty of comparison, but does not ex- 
plain what comparison evolves as its effect or product. He overlooks also the fact that the act of com- 
parison is involved in reasoning and perception, as well as in the judgment that produces the concept or 
notion. 

In his logic, however, and in all the treatment which he gives to the concept, he proceeds upon the 
hypothesis of Conceptualism, in the manner in which Eeid qualifies and explains it. Indeed, it would seem 
that his peculiar doctrine of tbe syllogism and deductive reasoning can have no meaning on the theory of 
Nominalism. And yet he would almost have us believe that he is a Nominalist, and " that the opposing par- 
ties are really at one." Hamilton refers with approbation (.Logic, Lee. 10) to the distinction between sym- 
bolical and intuitive knowledge which was made by Leibnitz, and which in his view " has superseded in 
Germany the whole controversy of Nominalism and Conceptualism, which, in consequence of the non- 
establishment of this distinction, * * * bas idly agitated the psychology of this country and of France." 
But what this distinction is, he does not explain so far as to say whether the symbol is a mere name or a 
universal notion. (Cf. Archbp. "W. Thomson, Outlines of the Necessary Laws of Thought, §§ 25, 47, 48. H. L. 
Mansel, Prolcg. Log. chap, i.) 

§410. John Stuart Mill, in his Logic, B. i. c. 2, and his Examination of Sir William 

Hamilton's Philosophy, chap. 17, earnestly advocates Nominalism. Names are names of 

, ?°- n Stuart things, but while they denote things, they also connote the attributes of things. Thushorse 

(or chalk) denotes every individual horse (or piece of chalk), but it at the same time 

notes or marks, i. e., connotes all that is peculiar to every horse, or to the class horse. 

Instead of the term concept, or general abstract nolion, Mill would use class name. The mind, whenever it 

uses the class name intelligently, must have some individual object before it, either perceived or remembered. 

It need not, however, direct its attention to every part of this individual object. It need think of, i. e., 

attend only to, those parts which the name connotes. It need not think of all of these even, but only of 

those which it has occasion to use at the moment for its immediate purposes. Now it is by association that 

we connect with a class certain parts of an object, so that when we think of the name, though the whole 

object is perceived or imagined, only those parts of the object are attended to which the name connotes. 

It is by association that these parts are thus connected with one another in the mind and with the class 

name which suggests them when the name is first presented to the mind ; or which they suggest when the 

individual object is first perceived, and these parts are attended to. 

Thig theory is explained at great length by its able and ingenious defender. In its substantial fea- 
tures it is identical with the theory of Hume and of Hobbes. It is defective in the following particulars. 
It does not explain the import of parts of things, nor the relation of the parts to the wholes to which they 
belong, or in which they inhere. Attributes, properties, and relations, are what are intended by the word 
" parts," but what attributes are, and how they can be affirmed or predicated of a thing, is either assumed to 
be self-evident, and therefore to need no explanation, or else the relation of attributes to beings is assumed 
to be fully expressed by that of parts to a whole. Next, the author overlooks that, when we attend to the 
" connoted ?' parts of a single horse, it is not to them as parts of the individual, but as resembling similar parts 
in all the horses " denoted." Except as they. are like these parts of the objects of the class, and so serve to 
represent them, the thought of them would be of no service whatever ; the mind would rest in the indi- 
vidual, and never move a step beyond ; neither the thought nor the name would give us a class object, or a 
class name. Next, association is not predication. The mental connection by which when I think of one 
object I must think of another, is purely subjective ; it is a movement or tendency which pertains to tho 
mind only. The relation thought of, of resembling attributes to other attributes, or of these attributes to 
beings, is purely objective. It is as Leibnitz observes, a reality. "When we go a step further, and take in 
the relation of these resembling attributes to the laws and causes which they indicate, we strike upon a 
deeper vein. Thus, the powers and other obvious qualities connoted by the word horse, indicate an interior 
structure fitted for nourishment, strength, spirit, instincts, uses. But the possibility of such relations is 
entirely unprovided for by Mill's theory of the concept. Mr. Mill objects to the doctrine of Hamilton, 
that we classify and reason by the medium of concepts. He would prefer to say, that we classify and reason 
by the medium of names. But he concedes that it is what the names connote, that gives them all their 
meaning and application, and that we attend only to those parts of the object, when we use the namo 
of the object or think the object under the name : Hamilton moans no more. If Mill supposes him to 
teach or to authorize the inference that we form an individual percept or image of the import of the con- 
cept by the medium of which we think of an individual thing, he is mistaken as to his meaning. His own 
language might also expose him to the charge of teaching that we think of individual objects by the medium 
i>f the parts which their individual names connote. The language, that we think by means of a concept, a 



§413. THE NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. SKETCH OF THEORIES. 411 

class name, or the connotation of a name, is liable to be misconceived, and Mill has done well to guard 
against this misconception, but he has unjustly charged upon Hamilton a doctrine which he does not 
hold. 

§ 411. Herbert Spencer {Principles of Psychology, part i. chaps. 8 and 9) agrees with 
Mill and Hume in their leading principles, as already explained. 
Herbert Spencer. He recognizes and earnestly insists upon the fact, that we perceive similarity be- 

tween things and between the relations of things; also, that the perception of such 
relations is not only essential to reasoning and classification, but even to an act of sense* 
perception. He urges, that we are not properly said to perceive an object, unless we also generalize and 
reason in regard to it. 

As to whether we generalize and reason by means of the concept, and what is the nature of the concept 
or of the name when thus employed, he raises no questions, and therefore answers none. How we con- 
nect these parts, seen to be similar and similarly related, into wholes, and what the wholes are, he does not 
explain any further than to refer us to the law of association, by which one suggests another and the 
name. 

"We scarcely need repeat the remark, that the law of association only accounts for the process by which 
these objects come into the mind, but does not at all explain what the mind believes in regard to them. 
These so-called objects or parts which are recognized as like and recalled to the mind, are believed to be 
attributes. But what attributes are, and what are their relations to their fellow-attributes and to the things 
to which they belong, and what is the nature of the object of our thought when we class objects by means 
of them, and what its relation to the objects which it denotes : none of these questions are discussed; they 
are not even raised by Mr. Spencer. 

§ 412. Of the modern German philosophers, Kant should be named first, not only in the 
relation of time, but on account of the influence which he has exerted upon all subse- 
Immanuel Kant, quent philosophy. Kant distinguished very sharply between individual and general 
objects of knowledge, and in the spirit of these aims he introduced many technical terms 
which are not only still retained in the German systems, but have been adopted by 
English thinkers. Kant's terminology is not only a permanent monument of his own activity, but it has 
served to fix some very important distinctions in the minds of speculative men. Kant says very littlo 
directly concerning the nature of the concept as the product and object of the mind's activity, or concern- 
ing its relation to the objects of sense. Indirectly, however, he treats this topic very fully. First of all, 
the concept, der Begriff, is the product and object of the understanding — as the percept die Yorstellung — 
der Sinnliche Gegenstand, is the product and object of the action of sense. The image das Bild, das Schema, 
is the work of the fantasy, the reproductive and productive. The percept is individual and so is the image- 
proper. The concept is general and definite. The Schema is intermediate between the two, being indefi- 
nite and movable, and in a certain sense general (cf. § 236). The percept, the image, and the Schema are 
all directly apprehended by the mind. The concept is mediately apprehended and mediately applied, 
requiring, to be used, that it should be concrete in an individual object, and that an individual should be 
understood by means of itself. Knowledge by concepts is preeminently mediate knowledge. 

In the concept, the matter is distinguished from the form. The matter is furnished by the senses, the 
form is furnished by the understanding. Before the two are brought together, the sense-matter must be- 
come a percept in the forms of space and time. The matter of the orange is furnished by all the senses. 
This matter becomes the percept orange by taking certain relations to space. It becomes a concept by being 
viewed by the understanding as a being with attributes ; which are distinguished from each other, and yet 
are common to many individuals, involving the recognition of diversity, similarity, and production or cau- 
sation. These and other such forms are given by the understanding itself; which, in acts of thought, as it 
were, covers over or invests the matter of the senses with each and all of them. It would seem from 
these doctrines, that Kant was eminently a conceptualist, inasmuch as he insists so much upon the conoept 
as the medium of thought, and so often repeats the assertion that thought is knowledge by the medium 
of concepts. But he does not declare himself such. His treatises are all logical and metaphysical rathei 
than psychological. Though a theory of the powers and processes of the soul is constantly implied by him. 
it is not presented in the psychological form. It would doubtless have been far better for German philoso- 
phy, and for all modern philosophy, if his method had been less metaphysical and more psychological, ne 
followed the bad example of the Greek philosophers, and like them left to his disciples and successors a 
legacy of profitless subtleties and endless disputes in respect to the nature and meaning of Concept, Idea, 
Matter and Form; as well as of Sense, Understanding, and Reason. These terms have been too generally 
treated by the later schools, as entities, hypostasized like the ideas of Plato, the forms of Aristotle, and 
the substantial forms of the schoolmen. 

§ 413. Fichte accepted literally the principle of Kant that the forms of the concept ara 
the products of the understanding, and applied it with logical rigor to its appropriate 
I. H. Fichte. consequences, viz. : that all the so-called forms of knowledge as contrasted with its mat- 

ter, are furnished by the mind's own creative activity. The matter of all knowledge is 
a subjective experience of the soul, therefore we can only reach the objective world by 
a thought process, i. c, by means of concepts, created or evolved according to the forms of the mind itself 



412 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 41 5i 

This assumption makes the use of the concept essential to the apprehension of the external world, i. c, to 
sense-perception. This reverses the order of dependence which was assumed and supposed hy hoth Nom- 
inalists and Conceptualists. These agree in making the real, i. e., the material, produce and go hefore the 
name and the concept. Both agree in making the general follow and he dependent upon the individual, 
?'. e., the actual. But Fichte would make the individual dependent upon the concept, at leasl for its form. 
Upon this theory the whole question respecting the relation of the concept to the individual ohject be- 
comes entirely changed. Individual objects are themselves individualized concepts. Heal things are the 
creations of the mind. The concept itself becomes an entity, more potent than the idea of Plato or the 
form of Aristotle. 

§ 414. This direction reached its terminus in the extreme opinion of Hegel, who makee 
the concept every thing and the individual nothing, who evolves the real world from 
G. W. F. Hegel, the concept, to which he ascribes an infinitude of elements and a power of self-develop- 
ment, adequate to produce the boundless varieties of individual things. Should it be 
said that this is a misconstruction of his doctrine ; that he treats only of the relation 
of concepts to one another, and of individuals only so far as they are conceived or turned into concepts, 
the result is the same, so far as our position is concerned ; which is that he does not concern himself with 
the relation of the concept to the individual, nor with the nature of the concept as a product of the mind, 
□or as a representative of concrete being, but treats it as an all-sufficing and independent entity. 

§ 415. Herbart and the philosophers of his school are in as striking contrast with the 
other German schools in their views of the concept as in their views of many other 
J. F. Horbart. points. Herbart sharply distinguishes the notion viewed psychologically, from the no- 
tion as regarded logically. Psychologically viewed, the notion is a growth resulting 
necessarily from the repetition of many homogeneous and heterogeneous sense-percep- 
tions. The homogeneous are those which naturally blend together, as similar colors, tastes, sounds. 
These by repetition enforce one another so as to increase the capacity of the soul for another exercise of 
the kind. The heterogeneous are different colors, sounds, etc., preeminently the objects of one sense as 
related to those of another, as a color to a sound, and of either to a sight. These combine with one another 
into a series under a psychical law of tension, which Herbart claims pertains to the energy of the soul in 
passing from one state to another, and which impels the one to recall the other. A homogeneous impres- 
sion or a heterogeneous combination, when often enough repeated, becomes a definite concept, either of 
a single attribute, as of yellow, round, etc., or of a combination of attributes, as those parts or attributes 
which make up the contents or essence of the orange. As to the relation of the concept to things or ma- 
terial objects, the views of Herbart do not differ from those of Mill as already explained. The mind 
afiirms those parts or elements which have become prominent in the way explained, of their background 
of accidental and changeable accompaniments. This background is the individual thing of which they 
ure affirmed, as the accidental peculiarities or relations of color, surface and form, belonging to a singly 
orange. To affirm the one of the other is constantly to connect the one with the other, under Herbart's 
law or theory of Association. In other words, what is ordinarily called the discernment of similarity in 
the case of single attributes, Herbart resolves into the subjective blending or enforcement of homogeneous 
mental states. What is ordinarily affirmed to be the predication of a concept as belonging to a thing, he 
would explain by the necessary suggestion of one part of a series of mental impressions by another, ac- 
cording to the laws of the mind's own experience. 

A concept is only a partial percept, but stronger in some parts than in others, the stronger parts being 
connected with the weaker by the laws of suggestion. 

The concept as a logical entity is treated as a fixed and definite whole, made up of its fixed constitu- 
ents, or essence. Psychologically viewed, it is not so much a finished whole, a completed product, as it is 
a tendency of the mind toward such a product. The mind is always forming concepts of individual objects, 
but the process in respect to none of them is necessarily complete. For this reason we can never contem- 
plate a concept as an object of the mind's apprehension, separately from the individuals in which it is 
realized. We require some individual example of a man, orange, house, etc., to suggest with sufficient 
distinctness and force, the parts which the concept represents. The very force with which these are sug- 
gested tends to keep out from the attention the weaker parts which are accidental and individual, except 
in very extraordinary and exceptional cases. In this way it is that the difficulties urged by Berkeley and 
Hume are set aside, and the objections of the Nominalists to the possibility of concepts are answered. 
(Cf. Herbart, Psychologic als Wissenschaft, §§120,121. Drobisch, Emp. Psych., §§15, 16,17. "Waltz, 
Lehrb. d. Psych., § 20, Volkmann, Grundriss der Psych ., § 98.) 

With Schleiermacher, and Schelling in his later years, a better direction was developed in German 
philosophy, which has been followed with great zeal by I. H. Fichte, A. Trendelenburg, H. Lotze, H. 
Bitter, H. Ulrici, F. Uberweg, and many others. They all labor at the same problem which vexed the 
ancient schools— the nature of the concept and its relations to the real object ; or, as expressed in other 
language, the relations of Thought to Being. 

Cf. J. M. de Gerando, Hist. comp. des Syslcmes de Philosophic 3d ed., Paris, 1847-8. Abelard, Ou- 
vrages inedits de, par Vict. Cousin. Paris, 1836. C. de Bemusat, Abelard. Paris, 1845. M. X. Bousselot, 
Etudes sur la philosophic dans le moyen-agc. Paris, 1840. B. Ilaureau, De la Philosophic Scolastique. 



§ 417. NATURE OP THE CONCEPT. CONCLUSIONS FROM THEORIES. 413 

Paris, 1850. H. Ritter, Allg. Geschichle der Philosophic. Hamburg, 1829-53. C. Prantl, Geschichle dei 
Logik im Abendlande. Leipzig, 1855-67. Pr. TJeberweg, System der Logilc. etc. Bonn, 2d ed., 1865. 
Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophic Berlin, 1868. W. Kaulich, Geschichle d. Scholastischen Philoso 
phie. 1 Theil. Prag., 1863. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE NATURE OP THE CONCEPT. CONCLUSIONS PROM THE HISTORY OP 

THEORIES. 

The brief review which we have taken of the various theories of the concept will enable us 
to see more clearly and to define more exactly its real nature as a mental product, and 
its relations to the objects from which it is formed, and to which it is applied. Every 
false or defective theory is founded upon some truth. What that truth is, it is always 
important to discover, even when by exaggeration it is distorted into positive error, or, 
by omission there is defect and mutilation. The consideration of such defective or ex- 
aggerated theories is most useful in enabling us to ascertain the truth in all its relations, 
and thus to develop it completely, as well as to distinguish it from errors of excess or 
defect. Indeed, it is scarcely possible that a complete and satisfactory exposition of the 
nature and relations of the concept should be either furnished or appreciated without a 
critical review of the various theories which have been devised and defended in respect 
to them. It is scarcely necessary to observe, that the variety of these theories, and the 
pertinacity with which they have been defended, indicate that the subject is more than 
usually difficult of mastery, and that a satisfactory exposition of it must require a subtle 
and copious analysis. In the light of our historical sketch, we observe : 

The concept an § ^16. !• The concept, as a mental object or product, is to 
anact and not ^ e distinguished from the mental act by which it is origi- 
nally produced or recalled. The act is necessarily an indi- 
vidual act. The concept or product may be general. In other words, it 
is possible that the mind should perform individual acts of generalization. 

There is no logical inconsistency between the individualization which must pertain to the 
act and the generalization which may pertain to the product. When we form — i. e., distin- 
guish — for the first time, or reproduce for the thousandth time, the simple concept yellow, or 
the complex concept orange, we distinguish the act from the object. We know that the act ia 
individual, but this does not imply or involve that the object should be individual also (cf. 
Reid, Essays, v., c. vi. § 1). 

implies the dis- § 417- 2 * The concept, as a mental product and a mental 
inTs^a^ittri" object, implies that the distinction of individual beings and 
butes. their attributes is accepted as real, and therefore admitted 

as possible. The first step in forming the simplest concept, or in finding 
the elements out of which it is formed, is the act of making this dis- 
tinction. 

That this distinction is made and can be thought of by the mind, is asserted or conceded 
even by the extremest nominalists. Thus Hobbes says : " One universal name is imposed on 
many things for their similitude in some quality or accident" That is, the mind must distin 



I 



414 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §419 

guish the qualities or accidents from things, in order to discern likenesses between them, 
Berkeley does indeed say for himself, " I deny that I can abstract one from another, or con- 
ceive separately, those qualities which it is impossible should exist so separated." But in 
another passage he concedes, " A man may consider a figure merely as triangular, without 
attending to the particular qualities of the angles or relations of the sides. So far he may 
abstract." Mill is very full and decided in recognizing the distinction of things and their 
attributes as the foundation of the universal name {Logic, B. i. c. ii. §§ 4 and 5 ; Review 
of Hamilton, c. xvii.). We adduce the testimony of these writers, not because we accept 
their authority as decisive, but because their theory of the concept would tempt them to 
overlook or deny this distinction if it were possible. If they recognize it, there must be 
decisive reasons why they should, and these reasons are found in its necessary truth. 

The testimony of consciousness, observation, and language upon this point is decisive. 
All men make this distinction, all men accept it, all men express it in the language which they 
use and understand. "We cannot discern likeness or unlikeness in any parts or attributes, 
without distinguishing them from the objects themselves. But in separating or distinguishing 
them, we affirm that they belong to the objects. In what sense they belong or pertain to them, we 
need not ask. To what they belong, we need not here discuss. What remains after all the 
attributes are removed, or how it is possible that the attribute should be distinguished from the 
being from which it cannot be separated, we do not here inquire. The nature of the distinc- 
tion of, and the connection between beings and their attributes, will be discussed in its place. 
It is enough for us to urge that it is real, and is universally made as the condition of the forma- 
tion and the ground of the reality of concepts. 

§ 418. 3. The attribute is always known or apprehended as 
object. a reae related to a thing or being. It is always held by the mind 

as attributable to or predicable of some being or thing. As 
an object of thought, it is a related entity or object, or an object in 
relation. Its import, or what is thought of by the mind, is not the 
object as such, but the object as related, or the object together with its 
relation. 

We rest, at this stage of our analysis, to inquire, whether it is possible for the mind to 
conceive or think of a related object or of an object as related. The question is not whether 
the mind can contemplate the relation as such without the object, but whether, when the 
object is before the mind, another element can be added, viz., its relation. To select the 
simplest example: The mind knows the percept red; it knows it as the attribute of some 
being, viz., as the attribute red. 

It would seem that there ought to be no question of the truth of this assertion, if the 
definition given of knowledge is correct, that it is the apprehension of entities in their rela- 
tions. Whatever the mind can know, it can apprehend or think of. If it can know a related 
object, it can think of such an object. 

8 419. 4. The attribute, which, as we have seen, necessarily 

involves the ° * ' ' •> 

^SSSt 011 ° f includes the two relations of being separated from and connect- 
ed with a being, is next viewed in the relation of similarity to 
other individual attributes, constituted and known like itself. The indi- 
vidual red is compared with other individual reds, and there is added tc 
its import its likeness to them. 

It is often said (cf. Mill, Logic, B. i. c. i.), that we might affirm the individual attribute 
of an individual object, as white of an egg or of chalk, without discerning a similar attribute 



§421. NATUKE OF THE CONCEPT. CONCLUSIONS FEOM THEORIES. 415 

in any other object. That this is possible, is true ; but it is also possible to go further, and 
to discern its likeness to other individual attributes. This is also usually done, whenever an 
attribute is expressed in language. The similar is conceived as the same (cf. § 383). But 
when the similar is thus recognized as the same, the additional relation of similarity is ob- 
served by the mind and represented by the term. The mind adds this third relation to the 
two others already considered, and the three are included in what the mind thinks or knows 
in the meaning or signification of the word. 

§ 420. 5. The attribute thus formed, having a common ap- 
ttaming. use ° r plication to all similar beings, may be used to desiguate both 

like attributes and like beings — i. e., it may be used for the 
purposes of naming. The function of naming does not consist in affixing 
an oral or written symbol, an articulate sound, or a written character. 
This is an accidental circumstance, a mere appendage for convenience. 
The mental function or import of the name is its use in recognition or 
description. 

The recognition may be of an object as similar or as identical. Again, we recognize 
objects as attributes or as beings. But so far as we do this by attributes proper, we employ 
single attributes or a combination of the same. Thus we may use red as an attribute, or red 
as a noun — the red or the reds ; ordinarily, however, we use many attributes combined, as in 
the concept, the red currant. When we describe, we simply cause others to recognize the 
objects described, and by methods similar to those which we use for ourselves. 

All that we need here to notice is, that, when the concept is used to denote objects, an 
additional relation is taken into its meaning, and this relation is apprehended by the mind. 
This denoting import of the concept enlarges its meaning by another relation. 

§ 421. 6. The use of the concept in a system of classifica- 
agSit. assi ^ mg tion enlarges its meaning still further. The capacity of the 

concept to be a classifier, arises from two circumstances : the 
fact that the attribute which is its germ, is common to more or fewer 
individual beings, and the fact that these attributes are very unequally 
distributed. Whenever it happens that one attribute, as red, belongs to 
more beings than another attribute, as sour ; then the red may denote 
the larger class — i. e., the genus ; and the sour, the smaller or subordinate 
class — i. e., the species. Sour, in such a case, may be the differentia of 
the species — the sour-reds. If oval is universally present with the species 
sour-reds, it would be a property ; if hirsute were sometimes present and 
sometimes absent, it would be an accident of the same species. The ap- 
plication of any attribute in all or any of these class-relations, obviously 
gives an addition to its import. "When a concept is used to classify, 
another relation is thereby taken up into its meaning, and its meaning is 
thereby so much enlarged. 

That the intellectual process of classification is subsequent to that which underlies the 
process of naming — i. e., the act of recognition or description — is evident from a moment's 
thought. Both involve what may be called generalization — i. e., the use of the concept as 
general or as common to more or fewer individuals. One only is generification — that is, the 
arrangement of these individuals into higher and lower classes. The second only recognizes 



416 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §423. 

the fact that these concepts are unequally distributed, some belonging to more and others to 
fewer individuals, and that they therefore are a means by which these may be classed as genera 
and species. The process and the product in the second case, both imply and are built upon 
the process and product in the first. In the first, we bring the individual under the general, 
by the direct act of forming the general from the individual in the way described. We know 
the individual under this concept or general name. In the second, we perform the reflex act 
of taking the general to divide all the individuals to which it belongs into their classes as 
higher or lower. The relation thereby established in the concept itself is both accidental and 
variable, according to the use to which it is put in classification. The same concept may be 
generic, specific, differential, propriate, or accidental, according to the material to which, and 
the use in which it is applied. 

it is applied to § 422. 7. Whenever the mind uses a general term intelli- 
groundof ?£ im- gently, it must understand or conceive the import which 
belongs to it in some or all of the particulars which we have 
enumerated. We do not intend that the mind consciously distinguishes 
and dwells upon each of these relations, but that, in forming and apply- 
ing such terms, it must have recognized and thought of them all. The 
question in dispute between the different parties is, what object the mind 
thinks of or has before itself when it uses general terms. Our previous 
analysis has, we think, established that it thinks of all these thought- 
relations, and that they all enter into the distinctive import or meaning 
of the concept as such. If this is what the conceptualist contends for 
when he asserts that the mind must think, form, and have a concept of 
these generalized attributes, as often as it employs a general term, he is 
so far in the right. If the nominalist contends that the concept is only 
a general name — i. e., a name which the mind applies to many objects — 
he is manifestly in the wrong. What the mind considers, is not the name, 
but the meaning or import of the name. 

It is the name as applicable — that is, as for some reason or other proper to be applied. 
It is the name as general — that is, the name with an import. If it be granted that not a 
single element of this import could be discerned without the aid of the name — i. e., without 
the instrumentality of language — still it is not the name as such, but the name as enabling us 
to conceive of the relation, that renders the aid which we seek for. 

The import is § 423 * 8 * ^ Qe mm ^ cannot conceive or acquire knowledge 
indTTd^is by °^ ^ e ^ m P ort °f an y concept, except by means of some 
individual example of the qualities or relations which it 
includes. We cannot know what single sensible attributes signify, as 
red, sweet, smooth, etc., without the actual experience of the sensation 
which each occasions, or of one that is analogous. So is it with the con- 
cepts of simple acts and states of the soul, as to perceive, to imagine, 
to love, to choose. The same is true of the concepts that are clearly 
complex, as house, tent, hnife, tree, horse, meadow, mountain, valley, town- 
ship, legislature, authority, icealth, value, rent, wages, feudalism, civil- 
ization. Of all these concepts, the elements must first have been made 
intelligible to the mind by their application — i. e., by being observed, 



§424. NATUBE OF THE CONCEPT. — CONCLUSIONS FROM THEORIES. 417 

experienced, or thought, in some individual being or agent. As we 
enumerate the constituents that make up the content of these concepts, 
and ask ourselves or others what is the meaning of each, we must employ 
some individual thing or act in order to explain our meaning to ourselves 
or to others. If we cannot reach the individual, we must do what is 
next best — we must refer to some being or act which is as nearly like it 
as possible. This is as true of the so-called relations as it is of qualities. 
Quality, identity, height, depth, etc., can only be understood by their 
being discerned in some individual thing or object — material or spiritual, 
as the case may be. 

But how is it when the meaning of the concept has been already acquired, both in its 
separate elements, and as united into a complex whole ? Do we then need to go back to 
some concrete instance, in order to recall the import of the concept, or of the term by which 
it is named ? "We reply, that depends upon the use to which the knowledge is to be applied. 
If the import is not recalled, so far at least as we have occasion to know it, then we must go 
back to some being or thing in which it is exemplified. We cannot know a quality or quali- 
ties, a relation or relations, except as exemplified in some individual being or thing, for the 
plain reason that these have no signification except as belonging to beings or things. We 
cannot know what red is, except by the inspection of something red ; what imagining or 
remembering are, except as an individual spirit imagines or remembers ; what equality, identity, 
height, or depth are, except as some object is known as equal to another or identical with 
itself, or as high or low as compared with another. 

8 424. 9. Every concept is capable of being referred to an 

The concept can . . . ., . . 

be referred to in- individual thing or image, and every individual or image can 

dividual objects. , . , , . t 

be thought into a concept. 

This proposition reconciles the strife between the nominalist and the 
conceptualist. The nominalist asserts that the only ideas which we can 
frame or mental objects which we can think of, are individual. Bishop 
Berkeley insists : " The idea of man that I frame to myself must be 
either of a white, or a black or a tawny, a straight or a crooked, a tall, 
or a low or a middle-sized man ; " plainly implying that we can form no 
other thought of man, and can by no means go beyond such an idea of 
an individual. 

The conceptualist, in insisting that the concept must ignore and neglect 
the individual and his characteristics, often entirely overlooks the depend- 
ence of the concept upon the image or individual thing as the originator 
or the condition of its materials, and the explainer of its import. Locke 
says, in effect, " the general idea of a triangle " " must be neither oblique, 
nor rectangle, neither equilateral, equicrural, nor scalenon, but all and 
none of these at once." " In effect it is ... an idea in which some 
parts of several different and inconsistent ideas are put together." It is 
plain that neither of these writers fully appreciates the relation of the indi- 
vidual to the concept, or the relation of the concept to the individual. 
Berkeley does indeed say, " An idea, which, considered in itself, is par- 
ticular, becomes general by being made to represent or stand for all other 
27 



418 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §424 

particular ideas of the same sort." But how the individual can represent 
particular ideas, he does not explain, and seems never to have considered. 

This thought brings the subject to a distinct issue, in the 
piafnSi? coss es ~ questions, ' How can one individual represent other indi- 
viduals ? or, How can the individual explain and illustrate 
the general ? or, How can the image be the occasion of the concept ? A 
concept is general, an image is individual, how can you think the one into 
the other ? ' The sides of every individual triangle must have a definite 
length, and the angles a definite measurement and relation. Every individ- 
ual man has in like manner a definite height, form, color, etc. We think 
these into concepts, not by overlooking the individual relations of each, 
but by considering their likeness to other attributes in other respects — the 
sides and angles, not in their individual relations, but simply as sides and 
angles — i, e., as bounding a figure and as being contained within two 
lines. We do not properly leave out of view what is individual, as the 
color of the man, his size, height, etc. In one sense we keep these in 
view, in order to compare their likeness with other colors, etc. We do not 
so much leave any thing out of view, as we add the new relations of like- 
ness which the formation of the concept involves. When we form the 
concept by the image, or bring back the concept to the image, we simply 
view the image in certain additional relations. An object viewed without 
thought-relations, is an image. An image with these relations added, 
becomes a concept. The knowledge which we have of the one is limited 
and partial ; the knowledge of the other is fuller and more complete. 
It is true that, when we think the image, we give our attention to fewer 
elements; but we are not obliged to overlook or omit these when we 
regard others. Least of all do we introduce into the concept elements 
that are inconsistent or incompatible, and make — i. e., image — a triangle 
which is neither rectangular, acute, or obtuse, as Locke asserts is neces- 
sary and as Berkeley objects is impossible. 

The fact is, that the concept is, by its nature, a related object — i. e. t a 
its very nature, thought related to a being or thing. It requires the image to make it intel- 
indiviS to ^ 15 g ible or complete. It supposes an image to which it belongs. It is all the 

while seeking the individual from which it was formed, and to which it should 

be applied. 
The intimacy of its relation to and its dependence upon the image is implied by the con- 
stant necessity of imaging our concepts, or of translating the same into facts of sense or 
consciousness. "Would we be sure of the import of a concept, we must carry it or its 
elements back to their concrete original, or to the picture of such an original which the 
phantasy can recall or create. Would we be sure of its truth or validity, we must test our 
theory or conjecture, by going back in experience or imagination to the original things, acts, 
or events by which the qualities or relations concerned can be validated. 

It is curious and instructive to notice here, that every man images the con- 
Eifferent images cept g w hich he employs or hears of, by examples that are peculiar to himself, 
same concept. and which are derived from his individual experience or observation. If his 

experience or education is marked by very striking peculiarities, the concrete 



§ 425. NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. — CONCLUSIONS FROM THEORIES. 419 

examples suggested by concepts and general names will be as peculiar. An Esquimaux, a 
Chinese, and a European, would picture very different objects to the imagination, on hearing 
or reading the words state, legislation, wealth, money, wages, civilization, fashion ; and even 
the more concrete terms, house, city, ship, oar, sail, knife, feast, procession, township, 
meadow. Two inhabitants of the same countr}', and sharing in substantially the same expe- 
rience, interpret the import of the commonest and most familiar terms by very different 
instances or examples. And yet their concepts are substantially the same, inasmuch as their 
more important and essential attributes remain unchanged, however greatly their individual 
exemplifications may differ. 

This circumstance explains how there may be a community of thoughts, with a verj 
diverse experience. The nature of things and the nature of man remains unchanged. The 
same powers, laws, and ends are perpetually reappearing, the same principles are continually 
illustrated, under forms the most unlike. 

.. If the concepts which we ourselves employ or which others present to our 

ized concepts minds, are highly abstract or very complex in their elements, the chances are 
imaged? 64 t0 be g reat ty increased that an appropriate concrete individual object will not be 
readily suggested, because it is so many removes from the attenuated abstrac- 
tion, or because, by reason of the complexness of the concept, some one element fails of 
being distinctly represented or clearly discerned. Hence, in those sciences which abound in 
terms and concepts of this description — concepts which do not readily suggest individual 
instances — illustrations should frequently be introduced, in order to keep both the meaning 
of the concepts and the evidence for their truth fully and freshly before the mind. Otherwise, 
the most gifted and best-trained student will fail to follow the discussion with complete intelli- 
gence and hearty assent. There is danger that many will be satisfied with a confused inter- 
pretation or a partial conviction. It may even happen that, through lack of the concrete and 
individual to support the abstract, the mind will take its revenge by turning the abstractions them- 
selves into realities ; will personify them into concrete beings, and invest them with the attributes 
and functions of powers or things in nature. 

Such words as the absolute, the infinite, the true, the beautiful, the good, the just, the equal 
— even such names as heat, life, light, etc., etc., are often used as though they were individual 
and concrete entities, instead of requiring entities to realize and explain them. Through fre- 
quent repetition as sounds, they seem to be intelligible as things, and we presume that our 
mastery over their meaning is complete, when we only very imperfectly comprehend their 
import, and are able very inadequately to explain or apply them. 

Hobbes remarks very pertinently {Leviathan, part i. ch. 4), "A man that seeketh precise truth hath 
need to remember what every name he uses stands for, and to place it accordingly ; or else he will find 
himself entangled in words as birds in lime-twigs ; the more he struggles, the more belimed." "For the 
errors of definitions multiply themselves, according as the reckoning proceeds ; and lead men into absurdi- 
Vies which at last they see, but cannot avoid, without reckoning anew from the beginning, in which lies 
the foundation of their errors. From whence it happens, that they which trust to books, do as they that 
cast up many little sums into a greater, without considering whether these little sums were rightly cast up 
or not ; and at last, finding the error visible, and not mistrusting their first ground, know not which way 
to clear themselves ; but spend time in fluttering over their books, as birds that entering by the chimney, 
and finding themselves inclosed in a chamber, flutter at the false light of a glass window, for want of wit 
to consider which way they came in." " As men abound in copiousness of language, so they become moro 
wise or more mad than ordinary. Nor is it possible without letters to become excellently wise or excel- 
lently foolish." 

§ 425. 10. "When the concept is furnished with a name, the 
iided CO by P the mind is gradually accustomed to interpose the verbal sign 
The necessity of between the concepts and the individual beings and events 



language. 



which exemplify and illustrate them. In this way the 



I 



420 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §425 

processes of the mind are greatly facilitated, and the attainments of the 
mind are enlarged and rendered more permanent. 

How it is that the mind is qualified, prompted, and taught to use language, we need not 
Here inquire. We have only to recognize the service which the use of language renders to 
our thinking in general, and in the formation and use of concepts in particular. We scarcely 
need remark, that the name may be either a spoken or written word. It may even be a 
descriptive or arbitrary gesture or sign. It may be the name of a being, an act, an attribute, 
or a relation, or of some or all combined in a term or proposition. The reasons why language 
aids our thinking are the following : 

(«.) The name is both a sensuous and an individual object. 
suous^V^iSdi- It presents to our sense-perceptions a definite object, which 

we can readily evoke, distinctly apprehend, and easily and 
unmistakably repeat. What it represents, is indeed abstract and general, 
but the name itself is an individual object of sense-perception. 

Were it possible for the mind to gain and hold a concept not connected with a sense- 
object, it would not rest content, but would cast about in order to find some such concrete 
object to which to attach it. If a sensuous word has been associated with the abstract con- 
cept, such an object at once presents itself far more quickly, perhaps, than any of the manj 
things or images by which the abstract might be imaged. 

The word addresses a single sense, the ear or the eye singly, or the two combined. Ir 
either case it is ready to appear when called for. The winged word flies to our aid, and the 
ghostly product of thought is at once embodied before the senses. 

(b.) The word is the sign, not of the whole of the individual 

It is a sign of a \ / ... . , ; . ^•n ^i 

part of the reia- thing or being which might image or exemplify the concept, 
viduai. but of a portion of its attributes or relations. In conse- 

quence, words present a greater variety and refinement of objects than 
exist in the world of nature. The words red, fruit, acid-fruit, currant, 
cherry-currant, may all be imaged or exemplified by the same sense-object, 
viz., the fruit before us. Red stands for a single one of its properties ; 
fruit, for several ; red fruit, for yet others ; currant, for more ; and 
cherry-currant, for even more. So the words company, an organized 
company, and a legislature, may all be illustrated by the same body of 
individuals which the senses discern, while each of the words represents 
more or fewer of their attributes or relations. 

These attributes are present in a vast variety of single objects, themselves most unlike in 
every other respect. These attributes and relations are the special objects of the mind's con- 
sideration and pursuit in the exercise of its higher functions. The gain is immense which is 
secured when each can be attached to its single sensuous name, and can thus be distinctly 
pictured to the imagination, recalled by the memory, and separated from all its accidenta] 
surroundings, leaving the mind undistracted by attendant circumstances. Each attribute k 
thus definitely fixed in the mind and retained as a permanent possession. It may, perhaps, have 
been discovered by very careful and earnest attention, or separated by the nicest and most 
pains-taking analysis, or evolved and suggested by another property as remote or obscure as 
itself; but if, as soon as it is evolved, it is enshrined in a word, sensuous, brief, easily mas- 
tered, recognized and recalled, this obscure and entangled property, which might have been 



§ 425. NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. — CONCLUSIONS EROM THEORIES. 421 

overlooked at a second view of the object which suggested it, cannot easily sink back again 
out of thought or remembrance. 

To fix and represent every attribute by a word, is also necessary for the service of com- 
munication which language performs. Another mind could not be brought to direct its atten- 
tion to the attribute and property which we with difficulty discern, unless the attribute were 
represented by a name. This, however, does not weaken, but rather confirms its service t« 
thought, in rendering its acquisitions permanent and ready for use. 

Names prepare (c.) Names enable us to add to our stock of logically 
tions e Ind S dls- dependent concepts. One concept is dependent upon and 
grows out of another. To form one concept, prepares us to 
form another, and is often the essential condition of its existence. 

The second is often entirely dependent upon the first by a logical and psychological con- 
nection. Unless the first is clearly discerned and firmly held, the second cannot possibly be 
reached. The name sets it distinctly and permanently before the mind, and enables us to 
make of it a stepping-stone to the next acquisition, which without the name would have been 
unattainable. 

Names suggest (&) Names aid most efficiently in rapid thinking, by sparing 
wkwh he we at il£ us tne necessity of dwelling on the entire import of the 
quke. word itself. Though the name usually represents a complex 

concept, and the concept to be understood must be illustrated by some 
concrete example, yet the mind may use names intelligently without 
pausing to apprehend more than a small portion of their meaning. In 
conversation or quick discourse, as well as in reading by the eye, only 
enough of this import is perceived to satisfy the present occasion — all 
else is omitted. Even whole sentences, when they are familiar, are re- 
ceived as the sign of a single concept or relation, viz. : that which the 
present occasion requires. 

This can only happen when the language is familiar to the eye and the ear, so that, as the 
eye and the ear each catch enough to identify the word or phrase, the mind also catches 
enough of the import to satisfy the present occasion. Were not the words addressed to the 
senses, and capable of rapid formation and reception, they could not serve this rapid applica- 
tion. Without the assistance of names, such a partial apprehension of the import of so great 
a variety of generalized attributes would be impossible. It is true, the quick eye of the hunts- 
man, the engineer, or the physiognomist, can read signs with a rapid and almost lightning 
glance, and thus without words apply the generalizations of previous observation. But their 
range of objects and relations is limited when compared with the generalizations to which 
language accustoms the mind. So wonderful is the power of words to facilitate the processes 
of thought, that names seem almost to become beings, and to attain an independent and sepa- 
rate existence of their own ; and the world of words takes its place side by side with the world 
of things : cf. Leibnitz, Med. de cog. ver. et ideis ; also Hamilton, Zogic,Lec. 10 ; J. S. Mill, 
Exam, of JTam. J s Phil., chap. xvii. ; H. L. Mansel, Prol. Log., chap. i. ; Burke, Essay on the 
Sublime and Beautiful, part v. 

monsStes 3 the ( 6 *) Experience teaches that, without the aid of names, the 
value of i an- mind makes little progress in forming or applying its con* 
thought. cepts. The use of language, and of spoken language even, 



422 THE HUMAN INTELLECT § 42 G. 

is found to be almost essential to successful thought. Without language, 
the discriminations of attributes are few, the generalizations are narrow 
and limited, the power to enter into and receive the thoughts of others 
is almost dormant. 

Many have gone so far as to conclude that, without words — i. e., names — we cannot thinls 
at all. Experience with deaf-mutes, who have acquired little even of the language of signs, 
disproves this extreme conclusion. These show, by their actions, that they generalize — i. e., 
form concepts — to a limited extent. They classify and arrange observations, they analyze and 
compare attributes, they apply principles in deduction and infer them from data. But while 
they show that it is not impossible to think without names, they also prove most conclusively 
that, without such aid, it is impossible to think with much effect. As soon as they learn to 
form and use names by the mastery of signs and written language, their power of thought is 
greatly quickened, and their stock of concepts is rapidly increased. But the language of thi 
eye alone, which is the only language at their command, is immeasurably below the language 
of the ear in the fineness and variety of its material, as well as in its capacity for ready assimi- 
lation and recall. Still, the surprising acquisitions made by deaf-mutes, in spite of all the 
disadvantages under which they suffer, are a signal proof that the mind is not restricted to 
any one kind of material out of which to form for itself a language ; that words, in whatever 
form, are only the signs of thought, and are not essential to thought itself. 

This explains These facts all explain how and why the nominalist was led 
Se ifo°m5ai e ist of to a< ^opt tne opinion that there is nothing in the universe 
but beings and names, and that the only generals or univer- 
sals conceivable are names. 

The concept without the name is almost as though it were not. It has no effective exist- 
ence. It can be retained and recalled and used only to a limited extent. The number of con- 
cepts that can be formed without words is small. The number that can be communicated even 
by the language of signs is inconsiderable, and these are of little service in the higher devel- 
opments and functions of the mind. 

it roves also "^is Yer J ana ly s i s 0I> tne relation of the name to the thing, 
that the name however, proves as decisively that the name can be formed 

requires a con- *- * 

cept. from or applied to the being or thing, only as it represents a 

concept, and that the concept furnishes all the import which the word can 
ever represent or possess. 

If it should be conceded that not a single concept was ever formed without a name, it 
would still be true that the word could neither exist nor be applied to an individual thing ex- 
cept as a concept was also generalized into being. If the word is the body of which the con- 
cept is the soul, the concept may still be as essential to the existence of the name as the soul 
is to the conception or reality of the body. Except as representing the concept, the name is 
an irrational sound, an insignificant mark or series of characters. It cannot signify a thing, 
except as it stands for its generalized attributes and relations, and these are a concept. 

The truth rep- § 426# llm The reallst asserts for the concept a still higher 

au s e m\ ted b y re_ import and use. The truth which is the basis of his theory 

is, that every real concept should suggest or express some 

one or more of the essential 'properties and unchanging laws of individual 



§ 426. NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. CONCLUSIONS EEOM THEORIES. 423 

beings. He is not content with the view of the nominalist, which makes 
the general term a mere class-name for the simple convenience of language, 
nor with the view of the conceptualist, who regards the concept as a chance- 
assemblage of attributes. He insists that the concept ought to signify 
and represent the most important of all descriptions of knowledge, the 
knowledge of that which is permanent and universal. This is the truth 
that has given currency and influence to the realistic theory, though this 
theory has often been expressed in extravagant and metaphorical lan- 
guage, and been defended by insufficient arguments. 

All individual objects of nature have their essential elements. These 
exist under constant conditions, and are produced by permanent forces, 
according to fixed laws and ends. The constituents, conditions, causes, 
laws, and ends of individual objects are often called their inner truth, 
their essential nature, their true meaning, their real and permanent being. 

The individual mass of earth or ore, the single crystal, leaf, herb, tree, fish, 
Accidental prop- bird, reptile, quadruped, and man, have accidental relations of position, form, 
tkms! an ie a " s ^ ze ? c °l° r > or taste ; they ex i gt here or there for a longer or shorter period of 

time, but these relations are of little or no importance for many of the higher 
ends of knowledge and of practice. They are observed by one and another, they interest more 
or fewer persons, they differ in a greater variety of inferior and accidental features. Thekind, 
the class, the genus and species, have certain common characteristics which are known to all, 
and which indicate many others which are also of wide and deep significance. These are every- 
where present. They are constantly perpetuated by the reproduction of the individual, and 
they can never fail. Their place in the universe is never vacant, and their importance in that 
economy by which the designs of nature are constantly accomplished is always the same. It 
is to reach the knowledge of these elements, causes, laws, and designs, that concepts are formed, 
classes are arranged, and names are given. As we have seen already, many of the earliest 
classifications and concepts are rude and unsatisfactory for scientific purposes, because they 
are founded upon attributes that are superficial and narrow in their significance and indicate 
few or none of the permanent elements and laws of being. These are gradually outgrown and 
displaced by others which are discovered to suggest more comprehensive agencies and more 
pervading laws. 

. . On the other hand, there are certain classifications and con- 

Permanent clas- . 7 

sifications and cepts which, though formed very earlv, are never laid aside, 

concepts. r ' ° J J \ ' 

because, though the attributes are obvious and even obtru- 
sive, they coincide with the results of the nicest analysis and the inmost 
penetrating insight. Such are the concepts that are formed of the dif- 
ferent species of animal and vegetable being, each one of which indicates 
and expresses many qualities and laws which science as yet has been 
unable adequately to discover and resolve. 

No better illustration can be adduced of the differing import of different 
The classifica- kinds of concepts and classes, than is furnished by the history of botany, 
tions of Botany. Linnaeus hit upon the convenient expedient of classing the different individual 

plants by the number of the stamina that appear in their flowers. The 
classes were subdivided into orders by the number of pistils. The device was convenient, be- 
cause all plants have flowers, and the number of the stamens and pistils is in most cases con 



424 THE HUMAK INTELLECT. § 426 

stant, and presents a ready means for their division and subdivision into classes. To a certain 
extent this division meant or signified something. The number of stamens and pistils, in some 
cases was found to indicate other common characteristics of some importance, and seemed to 
point to deeper qualities and laws. But this was by no means universally the case. The 
classes and orders that were founded upon the number of these organs, were concepts that 
interested no one, because they signified nothing in respect to the structure or the germina- 
tion, the growth or the habits, the flower or the fruit, and it was abandoned for another sys- 
tem of classes and nomenclature, which was founded on indications of greater practical and 
scientific significance. 

, The importance that is attached to the act of assigning an 

The name usual- . . , L o o 

ly signifies a individual to a class, and the giving it a name, can only be 

permanent and 7 ° ° 1 j 

important thing, explained by the underlying assumption not consciously 
developed or expressed by the great mass of men but still tenaciously 
adhered to, that if we can class and name an object, we are in the way 
of learning something more in regard to its nature and laws. 

The child is in a measure satisfied to learn the name of an object; and when an unob- 
served feature of likeness with another is indicated, it seems to see in this a clue to some new 
discovery. Starting upon this quest, it forms and changes its concepts and classes, till it 
reaches those which in some degree answer to the principles and laws which scientific knowl- 
edge unfolds. 

nenT concepts ^e re P resenta tion by our concepts of these permanent and 
the ui. t v in .l s scientific relations of individual things is what the realists 

sought hy the ° 

realist. f all ages and all schools have had in view, more or less 

distinctly indeed, when they' contended that every real concept had a 
permanent and undying existence in nature ; that to every general notion 
or universal, there was a real and permanent essence, of which every in- 
dividual shared a portion; and that the participation of this essence 
made the individual to be what it is in its divinest, and most important 
elements. 

This general truth has been expressed in a great variety of phrases, many of them poetic 
and figurative, the use of which in philosophy in their literal acceptation, has wrought no 
little error and confusion of thought. This poetic and over-statement has in its turn given 
rise to an injurious reaction, in the form of a corresponding external and superficial theory 
of the importance of concepts, classification, and naming. 

The mistakes of the realists have been twofold. They have. 
The mistakes of \y i\^ in language and thought, confounded the subjective 

the realists. ° ° 1 i 1 ' « 

concept, which is a purely psychological product, with its 
objective correlate — the related elements which it represents or indicates ; 
and have often called both by the same name, and invested them with 
the same properties. They have used a highly metaphoric terminology 
to express the nature of universals, and their relations to individual beings. 

The ideas of Plato and the Platonists, present from eternity in the Divine mind ; the 
forms of the Aristotelians, incapable of existing apart from matter, yet essential to every 
material thing and species ; the substantial and essential forms of the schoolmen, as well a? 



§426. NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. CONCLUSIONS EROIVI THEORIES. 42 J 

their univcrsals ante rem and a parte rei; the forms and ideas of Kant; the notion of Hegel, 
self-moving from the empty yet posited nothing, and self-developed by constant growth into all 
the fulness of the idea, with the power claimed for this notion to pass into the objective, giv- 
ing the world of material being, and then to return to itself so as by self-conscious affirma- 
tion and distinction to blossom into spirit and thus complete the circle of absolute knowledge ; 
— all these are examples of the exaggerations and personifications of realism in its endeavors 
to express a most important truth. This truth has already been explained. The concept, 
viewed as a subjective product of the mind's activity, consists of one or more logically compati- 
ble attributes. Any attribute can constitute or enter into a concept as thus conceived, and make 
up its essence — i. e., its nominal or logical essence ; for the logical essence is nothing but its 
constituent attributes (§ 393). We can form as many concepts, each with its own essence, as 
the laws of arithmetical combination will allow, and assign each to as many places in a system. 
But when we take our concepts from or apply them to individual beings or things, we find 
that the concept has another meaning and importance. The question which then arises is, 
What does the concept signify of things, their powers, causes, laws, and ends ? We are then 
obliged to consider, not the essence of the concept as a logical fiction, but its relation to the 
most important properties and laws of individual and actual beings as viewed in their essential 
or scientific relations. 

We may concede that the conceptualist, and even the nominalist, are in the right when 
they explain the import and meaning of the concept and the name, so far as they are viewed 
as subjective creations of the mind, or so far as their office is concerned in defining and dis- 
tinguishing groups of things, and yet contend that they are entirely wrong in overlooking what 
of deeper import they represent in the things which they arrange, and in failing to see that 
naming and classification lock to something higher. 

That they cannot wholly overlook these higher relations is clear from important passages in Locke and 
J. Stuart Mill. In a most important chapter of the Essay of Locke, in which he contends at great length 
for the wholly subjective character of the concept and its nominal essence, he observes, that there is also a 
real essence, viz., " that real constitution of any thing which is the foundation of all those properties that 
are combined in and are constantly found to coexist with the nominal essence ; that particular constituting 
which every thing has within itself, without any relation to any thing without it." Essay, B. iii. ch. vi. § 6- 

John Stuart Mill also wiites in the vein of an ultra -nominalist : 

" It is a fundamental principle in logic, that the power of framing classes is unlimited, as long as there 

is any (even the smallest) difference to found a distinction upon The number of possible classes, 

therefore, is boundless ; and there are as many actual classes (either of real or imaginary things) as there 
are general names, positive and negative together." 

Bat among these classes he recognizes important differences— as between the class animal or plant, or 
the class sulphur or phosphorus on the one hand, and the class white or red on the other— in that the 
things covered by the one differ only in certain particulars which may be numbered, " while others differ 
in more than can be numbered, more, even than we need ever expect to know." ""White things, for ex- 
ample, are not distinguished by any common properties except whiteness ; or, if they are, it is only by such 
as are in some way dependent upon or connected with, whiteness. But a hundred generations have not 
exhausted the common properties of animals or of plants, of sulphur or phosphorus ; nor do we suppose 
them to he exhaustible, but proceed to new observations and experiments, in the full confidence of discover- 
ing new properties which were by no means implied in those we previously knew." " There is no impro- 
priety in saying, that of these two classifications, the one answers to much more radical distinction in the 
things themselves, than the other does." " Now these classes, distinguished by unknown multitudes of 
properties, and not solely by a few determinate ones, are the only classes which, by the Aristotelian logi- 
cians, were considered as genera and species." System of Logic, etc., B. iii. c. vi. § 6. 

The careful student and critic will see, that in these remarks, this ultra-nominalist asserts the whole 
truth which was at the basis of the Realistic theory. The only defect which is fairly chargeable upon him 
is, that he fails to ask and to answer the question, What is the reason why, in the one kind of classes, we 
believe that an inexhaustible number of properties mutually dependent are signified, while \n the other no 
such properties are looked for? According to his philosophical principles, he would be able to give no othtr 
answer, than, that experience teaches us that we find this true of certain classes and not of others. But 
Bimple experience, if it would teach that some characteristics indicate in fact a greater number of accom- 



1:26 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 427. 

panying properties, would certainly net authorize the confident inference that many more that are as yet 
undiscovered, i. e., as yet unexperienced, remain. "While, then, Mill asserts the fact that justifies and ex- 
plains a candid interpretation of Eealism, he shows himself entirely incompetent to explain the fact which 
he concedes, or our belief in it. For this his philosophy is neither sufficiently profound nor liberal. 

\re there per- ^ * s subject has, of late, assumed a very great interest and 
mauent classes importance among naturalists, in connection with the ques- 

and species in * ° ' - 1 

nature ? tion of the permanence of species in the natural and vegeta- 

ble kingdoms. Certain naturalists contend that none of the so-called 
species are permanent, either in the plan of nature, or its actual divi- 
sions ; that every one of them has been developed by evolution from 
previously existing types, which owed their form and apparent per- 
manence to certain conditions or laws that were but temporary in their 
action and transitory in their results. In this way Darwin, ( Origin of 
Species, etc.,) Huxley, and others, reason from certain varieties produced 
within species, that all species existing at present, have been themselves 
developed. Herbert Spencer, by a broader application of the same 
general assumption, makes every type of existence, both material and 
spiritual, to have been developed from lower forms, which are held in 
being till forms still higher and more exalted shall displace them. On 
the other hand, Owen, Agassiz, and Dana find that the classifications of 
science must assume a more permanent and firmer foundation for the 
species w T hich they accept, in the action of permanent forces after the fixed 
types that are contemplated in the unchanging plan and the manifested 
thoughts of God. In this assumption they reach the scientific truth of 
the bold metaphors of Plato, who taught that by definition and division, 
we find in the temporary and phenomenal the eternal and real ideas 
which exist in unsoiled and unalloyed purity in the mind of the Deity alone. 
(Cf. Agassiz, Essay on Classification.) 

The relation of § 42 ^' 12 * ^ ne analysis which has been given of the nature 
tumv°e liC kn owi" °^ t '^ ie conce pt anc * its relations to the individual object or 
edge. image, explains more exactly the relation of what is called 

symbolic, mediate, or logical knowledge, to that w 7 hich is intuitive, imme- 
diate and experimental. 

We have already spoken of this distinction in a general way (§ 383). 
We return to it again, for the sake of greater exactness. Knowledge by 
concepts is symbolic, mediate and logical. Knowledge by direct appre- 
hension, wmether in connection with consciousness or perception, is called 
intuitive. 

When I perceive a sense-object, as a man, a house, or tree, or am conscious of an indivi- 
dual state of spiritual activity, or discern with the mind's eye a mathematical figure, I know 
intuitively each of these objects. When I recognize either as belonging to a class, or give to 
either a name, I am said to know it by means of the concept or name ; and these concepts or 
oames are said to be media or symbols, which I employ in knowing. This distinction, as thus 
stated, originated with Leibnitz, and much has been made of it by later thinkers, as Kant and 
Dthcr German philosophers, as also by Hamilton, Manscl, and Morell among the English. This 



§427. NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. CONCLUSIONS FROM THEORIES. 427 

passage has eo great an historical importance that we transcribe it at length. Mill, in bis 
examination of Hamilton's Philosophy contends that it relates to words as symbols, and not to 
symbolic concepts. A closer examination will show that both are included in the author's 
meaning. See above, § 425. 10. (d.) 

Plerumque autem, praesertim in analysi longiore, non totam simul naturam rei intucmur, sed rerum 
loco signis utimur, quorum explicationem in prsesenti a'iqua cogitatione compendii causa solemus prseter- 
mittere, scientes, aut credentes nos earn habere in potestate : ita cum cbiliogonum sea polygonum mille 
sequalium laterum cogito, non semper naturam lateris, et ssqualitatis, et millenarii (seucubi a denario)con- 
sidero, sed vocabulis istis (quorum sensus obscure saltern, atque imperfecte menti obversatur) in anirao 
utor loco idearum, quas de iis habeo, quoniam memini me 6ignificationem istorum vocabulorum babere, 
explicationem autem nunc judico necessariam non esse; qualem cogitationem csecam, vel etiam symboli- 
cam appellare soleo, qua et in Algebra et in Arithmetica utimur, imo fere ubique. Et certe cum notio 
valde composita est, non possumus omnes ingredientes earn notiones simul cogitari : ubi tamen hoc licet, 
vel saltern in quantum licet, cognitionem voco iniuitivam. Notionis distinctse primitives non alia datur 
cognitio, quam intuitiva, ut compositarum plerumque cogitatio non nisi symbolica est. — Med. de cog. ver. ei 
ideis. 

The ground for this distinction has been furnished already 
its ground ai- { u ^he position, that every concept supposes an individual 

ready explained. . . . ... 

concrete, either real or imaginary, in which it is exemplified. 

No person can receive the import of the concept except as he resorts to this concrete foi 
interpretation and explanation. When I pronounce such words as white, red, sweet, sour, etc. 
I presuppose that the person to whom I address them has known by experience, *. e., b;> 
intuition, what they signify; that he has either seen these colors and tasted these tastes, c 
those which are sufficiently like them. If he has had no intuitive or analogous experience o. <? 
them, my words convey to him no meaning. The same is true of all the so-called simple idean 
of Locke, which are the constituent elements of all those which are complex. 

When, again, I use the words man, legislation, and civilization, I suppose that the person 
whom I address has had at least some experience of the elementary conceptions which entet 
into these compounds, and in all probability has had intuition of some concrete example of thii 
compound itself. By whatever beings or events within his experience he may interpret or 
image them to himself, the fact is unquestioned that he must refer to his own experience, to 
understand the import either of the elements or of the compounds, or of both. The same is true 
of the more recondite properties and relations — those beliefs and principles which are the 
subjects of metaphysical controversy and speculation. Neither word nor concept can convey any 
meaning to the man that does not find within his own experience a voucher for its validity and 
import. 

The chief obiects fcr which words and concepts are used 

Words valuable . " . .. A _ . _ 

f or definition are denned and exact thought on the one hand, and miorma- 

and impression. . . ,.,. 

tion and impression on the other. In the one case, the mind is 
occupied with the more abstract and general relations of objects. In the 
other, those which are broader and more obvious are employed, often solely 
for the excitement and gratification of the emotions. In both cases, use 
must be made of the objects and images of individual experience. But in 
the first, the relations concerned are less dependent upon the individual 
images which happen to be suggested, because to convey or awaken gen- 
eral relations is the chief end. What are the individual examples by which 
each individual hearer or reader verifies or illustrates them, v\ cf Ie?s im 
portance, provided he understands what is said. 



428 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §427. 

But even here intuition is far better than symbolic knowledge; rather should 
Advantage ^ of it be said, intuition with thought is far better than symbolic knowledge with- 
description. out intuition. The most careful definition of a mountain, the ocean-surf, a 

cataract, a giraffe, a palm-tree, may convey far less satisfactory and far less 
accurate impressions than the inspection of a moment might furnish, provided the inspection 
leads to thought — i. e., to the formation or verification of concepts. With the concrete before 
us, our concepts are more exact, because we see for ourselves. The concrete also furnishes 
the material for any new concepts which we ourselves may form directly from their objects. 
Merely logical inferences from thought-premises and definitions, cannot be trusted so confi- 
dently as when the fuller material of intuition and experience is before the mind. But what 
is more important than all, is the circumstance, that, when the knowledge is logical only, the 
concrete images and illustration that are suggested may mislead to important error, or even 
defeat the very impression which the words and reasonings are fitted to convey. While the 
teacher employs concepts and arguments which the original concrete fully authorize and 
enforce to his own mind, the hearer may interpret or verify them by others which are not 
exactly similar or pertinent, and which not only fail to illustrate and confirm what is asserted, 
but seem to contradict and overthrow it. 

words more in- ^he defects of mere words and the images which they awaken 
mer^de scrips m comparison with actual intuition are still more striking 
tion - when the objects are described rather than denned, and for 

the purposes of vivid impression and excited feeling. One is forcibly im- 
pressed with these defects, when he reads a description of a scene in na- 
ture with which he is personally familiar ; especially if he reads it with 
the scene actually before him. However graphic or complete the descrip- 
tion may be, it is but a lifeless outline when compared with the fulness 
and vividness of the reality, or with the throng of images which are 
awakened in the memory. 

The impressions received from words by one who has never witnessed the reality, are but 
as thin and pallid shadows, when contrasted with full and glowing intuitions. The most exact 
fend affluent description of Niagara is a very different thing to one who has recently seen the 
cataract, or who reads with his eye open upon the scene, from what it can be, to one who has 
cever seen its wonders. If a person has never seen any waterfall, it is still more impotent to 
Instruct the mind. 

These facts bring to light very distinctly the truth that lan- 
atS g ?a? g e eiy P Dy guage operates to a very great extent by suggesting the 

images and remembrances which have been gained by the 
experience and observation of each individual person. Besides the direct 
office of instructing the mind, it serves to awaken a multitude of kindred 
images and facts which are suggested to them. 

All that we have seen, or heard, or experienced, may be recalled by the words of another, 
who is entirely unconscious of the power which he wields, and the xrork which he is perform- 
ing. Words which to one are dead and meaningless are to another full of life and import. 
Words meant only in kindness may awaken images of sorrow and pain. The reader of poetry 
must have somewhat of a poet's power to receive and recreate. The student of philosophy must 
nave something of a philosopher's reach and insight, to understand and judge what he reads. 



§ 427. NATURE OF THE CONCEPT. CONCLUSIONS FEOM THEORIES. 429 

There is a large class of facts and truths, as well of scenes and events, to 
Language often which language can do but scant justice. These are those to which the facts 
very inadequate. an( j ev . en t s which we know and have experienced are only remotely analogous. 

Language is feeble to convey to the inhabitant of a plain or prairie, the im- 
pressions of mountain scenery ; to the stranger to woods, the grandeur of an aboriginal forest ; 
to one who has always lived inland, the glory and the beauty of the ocean. A savage cannot 
appreciate, by description, the attractions of civilization. The person who has not entered a 
cathedral, or seen some of the great works of art in painting and sculpture, can never by de- 
scription, be made to appreciate these objects. 

Th boiiem When the means of finding analogies are still more scanty, 
of the invisible ^he communication by language is still less successful. How 

and the spiritual J ° ° 

world. anxiously do we endeavor to anticipate what may be the 

scenes and objects to which another life may introduce us ! But how feeble 
is our power to imagine them, because our stock of analoga is so 
scanty ! We desire most earnestly that descriptions in language may con- 
vey to us the desired information. But language may be in itself to { 
large extent impossible, because the only images which language can sug 
gest must of necessity be taken from the scenes of the present state oi 
being. 

But while the images taken from these sources may as images be wholly inadequate ; tfoi 
thought-relations which they convey may be entirely trustworthy. The most important of 
these are taken from spiritual being, and pertain to the thoughts and feelings in which spirits 
may be essentially alike, however widely removed may be the objects with which they arc 
conversant, or the media through which they communicate with them. It is impossible for us 
to have images of a state of being in which the spirit may have investments and confront 
objects that are unlike those to which we are accustomed in our present condition. But if we 
believe it possible that the spirit shall retain its identity and its most important spiritual states 
and acts, then it is easy to see how in connection with and through images borrowed from 
the things and events of the present, unchanging thought-relations may be conceived and taught. 

It is sometimes asserted that the Infinite Spirit can have no 

Can the infinite _ . , ., n . i « 

be described by common relations with the finite, so that all our conceptions 
of the infinite must be finite and therefore inadequate and 
unworthy ; and that, consequently, all attempts of language to convey 
knowledge from the higher to the lower must be forever impossible, be- 
cause the media — i e., the images and concepts — must both be finite. This 
is urged against the possibility of any communication from God through 
the forms of finite nature, or by the media of human speech. It may be 
granted that to the mind, in its studies of nature, the images suggested or 
excited in the mind and the language founded on such images are 
wholly inadequate to express the divine, because both are finite ; it may 
be granted even that the concepts of spiritual relations must necessarily be 
interpreted and illustrated by images taken from finite objects, and so far 
there are essential defects in our imaginations concerning God : yet it may 
remain true that there are relations of similarity and analogy between the 
finite and the infinite spirit, which render it possible that the one should 



430 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §428. 

be understood by the other, and that the language which describes the 
one to the other should convey actual truth. 

The infinitude of God may not exclude personality, which itself establishes a 
Man may "be in n k eness between man and God. Personality may involve similarity of knowl- 
the image of edge in its higher and permanent relations. A common sympathy may arise 

from a similarity of emotional capacities, while similarity in the common 
capacity of a personal will may render possible a similar moral Goodness. These likenesses or 
analogies, may coexist with the greatest disparities in every other respect. The one being may 
be infinite and the Creator ; the other may be finite and the created ; and. yet the one, by 
indications through his works and communications by his word, may make himself truly, if not 
perfectly known. The imagination of the finite may be inadequate to picture the infinite, while 
the thinking of the finite may apprehend the relations by which the infinite thinks, and there- 



CHAPTER V. 

JUDGMENT, AND THE PROPOSITION. 

From the consideration of the formation and the nature of the concept, i. e., of the process and 
the product, we proceed to its evolution and expansion ; to judgment considered likewise as 
a process and a product. The two are often known by the same appellation, viz.: 
judgment. More frequently, however, the product is known by the expression of the 
same in language, i. e., as a proposition. This term again is usually restricted to a logical 
proposition, or a proposition as composed of two concepts, i. e., a logical subject and predi- 
cate. It will be found, however, that both judgment and the proposition are more 
extensively applied ; that the psychological is the condition of the logical judgment ; that 
judgment enters into all the processes of thought, and therefore deserves the most care- 
ful consideration. 
The con ce t §428. The processes already considered, and which are 
formed by an act involved in forming and applying notions, are alike in this; 

ot judgment. & ix^o ^ • ■» 

they are all acts of judgment. The mind cannot think 
without judging. To think, is to judge. Even in forming or evolving 
its notions — that is, in providing itself with the materials for what are 
usually called acts of judgment — the mind must judge. 

This assertion runs counter to the statements which we find in many books of 
How represent- logic, which teach that the mind first furnishes itself with notions or general 
TcaUreTds'es. ^ terms by means of simple apprehension, and then proceeds to compare and 

discern whether they agree or disagree : This last act only is called an act of 
judgment, and this is expressed in language by the proposition. 

This doctrine is true only of the logical judgment — that is, the judgment which supposes 
the mind to be in possession of notions already formed, the relations of which it discerns and 
expresses in language. It entirely overlooks and leaves out of view those judgments which 
are psychological, i. e., those acts by which we acquire the notions which we afterwards use. 
It is with these judgments that we have to do ; it is of this class of acts, that we assert 
that they must be exercised even in forming our concepts. Cf. Reid, Inq., c. ii. § 4 ; Ess. iv. c. 8. 

The truth of this assertion is evident from many considerations. 



§ 428. JUDGMENT AND THE PROPOSITION. 431 

„ nt, ^ *v (1.) It is evident from an analysis of the act itself. If we 

(1.) Proved by the V / ^ 

analysis of the retrace the steps which we have taken in forming concepts, 
we find that we cannot know attributes, except as we affirm 
them of individual beings. An attribute without a being is inconceiva- 
ble in thought and impossible in fact. We can neither think nor believe 
it to be, without a something to which it belongs. In the very act of 
analysis, by which we separate an element in order to compare it with 
others like itself, we must restore it to that from which it was abstracted. 
The instant we exalt these similars into a same which is common to every 
being, we judge this same to be true of them. all. 

Suppose we meet with a series of unknown and unnamed objects, each of which has some 
attribute or property, or attribute that is new and without a name : or suppose the attribute to 
be familiar and nameable, while the objects are unnamed. We think and say of each of these 
objects, it is yellow, red, or green ; or, it is this and that. "We in fact perform a process 
which can only be represented by some proposition, one element of which is affirmed of 
another : e. g., z is yellow, red, or green ; or if each is without a name, x [individual] is y 
[common]. The nearest and best expression of this act which we find in any form of language 
is the impersonal verb, as, it shines, it lightens, it rains, in the use of which the unnamed 
being is present to the senses, and the attribute is mentally judged or affirmed of it. 

. Ira lied ^ (2.) It is still further implied in the truth already developed, 
the nature of that every notion is by its very nature and essence relative. 

the concept as .... . . 

relative. j # e . ? related to individual objects or actually existing things. 

As a predicable, it is affirmable of individuals ; as a universal, it is com- 
mon, — i. e., it belongs equally to single objects. In other words, the 
notion is founded, as was shown, upon attributes, and attributes are in 
their very essence actually taken from, and capable of being restored to, 
the things to which they pertain. 

(3.) The same fact is evident from the consideration of the 
ture of names*" meaning of names, and of what is implied in the expression of 

notions in language. A name is the the verbal symbol of a 
concept or notion. But to be a name, it must be a name of some object 
or objects ; some object must be called by it ; it must be applied to some 
thing or being. But all these acts imply judgment. 

. In the na (4.) It is implied by the very definition of knowledge. In 
l d™ ° f know1 ' discussing the act of knowledge, we have already found 

that it implies judgment, whether the knowledge takes the 
form of presentation, representation, or thought. We have sought to 
prove that all knowledge implies more than the apprehension of an object 
as existing ; viz., its existence in some relation. If it is true that knowl- 
edge by perception and memory implies judgment, much more does 
knowledge by thought, forasmuch as we have seen that the general with 
which thought has to do, is, by its very essence and nature, only a relative 
and affirmable entity. 



432 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 429. 

"We conclude from these data, that 
Mutual relations Wherever there is a notion, there is an implied act of judg- 
and th t e he C01? ua P - ment - Every such notion has been formed by judgment, 
ment - and is capable of being expanded into a judgment. It is an 

organic thing, representing in its very essence the act which gave it being, 
and capable of being developed into similar though more complex prod- 
ucts. It is like a seed, which is a miniature plant, having come from a 
plant and being ready to spring into a plant ; or it is like the cell which 
is the ultimate element of growth and development in vegetable or 
animal life. "We do not judge by a mechanical and superinduced act of 
the intellect, which, finding two names or notions, proceeds to fasten 
them together ; but it is of the very nature of the notion, that it can be 
applied or united to some object. This natural and necessary act of 
union or synthesis is an act of judgment. The true doctrine may be stated 
thus : every concept is a contracted judgment ; every judgment is an 
expanded concept. 

jud ments are § 429, ^e judgments by which concepts are formed, are 
psychological properly called primary, natural, and psychological judg- 
ments. They are distinguished by the circumstance that 
their subject is an existing and individual thing. Judgments of the other 
class are secondary, artificial and logical In these, concepts, not things, 
are apparently compared with one another, so that concepts seem to be 
the only objects-matter. 

ments of J ^ J1( ^ y e *> * n * nese judgments it is true, that the reason why 
mental entities, concepts are affirmed of concepts is, that concepts are, in 
their very nature, affirmed and affirmable of things. The 
bond which unites one concept with another in judgments that are 
purely logical and general is in the last analysis the same bond by which 
concepts are connected with things. The secondary, comparative, and 
logical judgments are all founded on those which are primary, natural, 
and psychological. To be convinced of this truth, we need only to con- 
sider the expression of judgments in language, and to trace the order of 
progress by which logical judgments or judgments consisting of concepts 
come to be reached and understood. 

When purely mental entities are treated of, whether fictions of imagi- 
nation, as the centaur, or mathematical constructions, as the triangle, or 
abstracta, as virtue, they are treated as actually existing beings. 

The fact has already been established, that the concept, by its very nature, 
How the subject , , , , , ■, . 

of a judgment is contemplates attributes only ; and that concepts, like man, human, humanity, 

!an^age Sed in so f ar as tne "* constituent attributes are concerned, stand for precisely the 

same content of attributes. When they are expressed in language, however, 

man and human differ in this, that the one word, man, denotes a being to which these attributes 

Delong, and the other, human, denotes the attributes only. By what process the mind comes 

to be possessed of these two sorts of words, we need not here iuquire. But when it does 



g 431 . JUDGMENT AND THE PKOPOSITION. 433 

possess them, it cannot but use them. Instead of thinking or saying, it is green, or, it rains, the 
man says, orange is yellow, cloud rains. Soon it learns to say it in three ways ; this orange 
is yellow, some oranges are yellow, all oranges are yellow, according as it uses the general 
name for one, a part, or all of the beings for which the orange stands. In order to do this, it 
applies special terms to denote these three relations, viz., the words the or this, or one, some 
[a few or many], and all. 

How does the 8 430. The secondary judgment, when its subject is an indi- 

logical differ . 

from the psy- vidual object, differs from the primary only in this, that the 

cholo ? ical judg- • j * j x. / I T 4. i * 

ment? subject is denoted by means ot a common term. Instead of 

saying it, we say this orange. If the subject is a universal, as all oranges, 
the mind gives the result of its separate observations, or their equivalent 
induction, by using the concept in its largest extent. 

The fact that a concept has the two relations of extent and content, fits it to be 
Any concept is , , „ .,..,, , 

capable of being used both as the name of one or more individuals, and as an attribute only. 

subject or predi- ^y nen a CO ncept is used to denote beings, it is used in the relation of extent. 
When it is used to denote attributes, it is used in the relation of content. 
Every notion must have both of these relations, and cannot exist without them. In the natural 
judgment by which every concept is formed, one of these relations is expressed by intuition, 
and is represented by the subject it ; the other is formed by thought, and becomes the pred- 
icate yellow or rains. In the secondary judgment a concept used in its extent only is em- 
ployed as the subject and takes the place of the intuition or induction; the notion as content 
retains its place as predicate, and the natural judgment by which the notion is formed and in 
which only one notion can be used, becomes a secondary judgment in which two notions ap- 
pear. These considerations fully establish the position that the two species of judgment are in 
their essential nature one and the same, inasmuch as both express what is essentially 
involved in the act of thinking, viz. : an act of affirming a concept of an existing being or thing. 

§ 431. This relation discerned by this act is expressed in 
of h thcfopS lon language by the copula, whenever the copula appears as a 

separate word. The is of the judgment means the relation 
affirmed or judged, i. e., known to exist between the being and its attri- 
bute. It makes no difference whether it is or is not expressed, it is still 
present as an element m every judgment, whether it is. so united with the 
predicate as to form with it a single word, or whether it is expressed by 
the verb to be. The act of judgment is the same whatever be its verbal 
expression, whether subject predicate and copula are condensed in a sin- 
gle word, as, pluit — or expanded into two, as, it rains — or into three, as,, 
the clouds are raining. 

The copula does not require or imply that the being should actually exist in- 
The copula does fact, that there should be an actually existing material or spiritual thing or 
existence. a agent, of which the attribute is affirmed or thought. The being may be an. 

imaginary being, as a centaur, or a mathematical entity, as a triangle, or an 
abstractum as whiteness, or virtue, or legislation; and yet one or more attributes maybe 
asserted or thought of each. All that the copula properly signifies is, that the concept has 
this or that attribute, one or many. Whether the concept is of a real being or of a thought- 
being is presumed, or left to be determined by other sources of knowledge. If a centaur is 
spoken of, we know it has only imaginary existence ; if a triangle, that it is a mathematics 1 



28 



434 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §432. 

conception or construction ; if virtue or legislation, we know we must go back to concreto 
beings, to find the reality of which these are abstracts. 

§ 432. It has been established that every notion is a contracted 

Judgments of . _ . . .._. 

content and ex- judgment and every judgment is an expanded notion, and also 
that every notion has two relations — the relation of content 
and the relation of extent. It follows that notions can be expanded into 
two kinds of judgments : judgments of content and judgments of extent. 
Both these forms of judgment require special illustration. 

We begin with the Judgment of Content. 

This is the form taken by all original and natural judgments. It is by 
a judgment of content or of a common attribute or relation that every 
notion is originally formed. This is also the form in which judgments 
most frequently occur in language. Objects are observed and their com- 
mon attribute or attributes are thought, i. e., judged of them, and the 
thought when expressed in words gives those propositions which abound 
in every language. It is only by a reflex act that the mind develons 
and employs judgments of extent. 

These natural judgments of content, serve the purposes of common life and of 

Natural and common intercourse. For the ends and uses of Science we need to go further 

scientihc judg- , , .. „,„.. _ , 

ments of content, and to employ propositions of definition. In such propositions we assert not 

merely one or more attributes for purposes of information, but we indicate 
all the attributes which make up or constitute the whole content. For example, we are required 
not only to state some one attribute or relation which is true of man, but all the attributes 
which are required to distinguish men from other beings ; in other words to give the defining 
attributes or constituents — the definition of the concept. To accomplish this end we must 
express what is called the whole content, since if we state only those elements which are com- 
mon to this concept and many others, and omit one or more that is peculiar, we do not define 
it from the others ; that is, we do not separate either the concept or the objects for which it stands 
from all the other concepts and objects. If we define a circle as a curvilinear figure, the circle is 
not distinguished from an ellipse. If we define man to be a two-legged and featherless being, 
this is true also of a plucked chicken. Hence the rule by which we try and determine a good 
definition : The proposition which expresses it must be convertible. We must not only be able 
truly to assert { every triangle is a plane three-sided figure,' but ' every plane three-sided figure 
i<j a triangle,' not only c every man is a rational animal,' but L every rational animal is a man.' 

. The content was called by Aristotle and the Scholastics the 
and nominal, essence, i. e., attributes or elements which make the notion to 
be what it is as a notion. A distinction has also been made 
between the real and nominal essence, and between a real and nominal 
definition. The real essence is, properly, its entire content, and a real 
definition would be a statement of this in language. The nominal defini- 
tion would properly be the definition by an equivalent name or names. 

Aristotle himself meant primarily by the essence that which existed permanently and really 
in the objects to which the concept belonged rather than the attributes themselves as constitu 
ting the concept. He applied essence metaphysically rather than logically, to the objective 




33. JUDGMENT AND THE PROPOSITION-. 435 

correlate of the concept, rather than to the concept itself as an intellectual or subjective product 
Of. § 399. It is easy to see how the term might be employed first as the constitutive nature of 
each object or thing conceived, and afterwards be transferred to the species which make up a 
genus or into which a genus is divided, and finally be applied to every individual ot 
object. 

§ 433. What is often intended by this distinction is bettei 
truth the copula expressed by the distinction of real essence and thought- 
essence, or real and logical truth. This distinction can be 
appreciated and understood only as we remember the remark alread) 
made, §431, that propositions may concern existing beings or notions 
of beings to which there is no corresponding reality. The proposition as 
a definition only, expands the content or essence of the concept, without 
deciding whether any corresponding reality exists in fact. When for ex- 
ample we define the centaur we give the attributes that make up the concep- 
tion without asserting or knowing that no such being exists. When we define 
a triangle we state the essential constituents of the concept produced by the 
constructive imagination, knowing that it has no other existence. When 
we define man we define the concept and believe it is realized in fact and 
actual being. The definition of centaur implies only thought-essence or 
logical truth. The definition of man implies both logical and real truth. 
The copula is, in the one case signifies ' is defined as' or * consists of\ in 
the other signifies — both ' is defined as » and ' really exists? 

In very many cases we readily interpret the meaning of the copula and the 
The import of character of the judgment and definition, by our knowledge of the subject- 
interpreted. ° T matter. In other cases we have no such knowledge as qualifies us to deter- 
mine whether the definition is really true, as well as logically consistent. 
Suppose any of the following concepts are to be defined : virtue, duty, inalienable right, natu- 
ral liberty, tyranny, a sovereign state. It is of essential importance to know whether the 
definition concerns only the concept as a mental product, existing in and for the mind only, 
or whether there are real relations and activities of the human soul, to which the concept 
corresponds. In the first instance we should need to consider only, whether the concept is 
correctly defined as it is ordinarily used or as this or that school of philosophers or politi- 
cians imagined or conceived it. In the second, we should inquire, whether it answers to a 
truth of fact, i. e., whether the concept has a corresponding reality. 

In the definitions of science, both these questions should be carefully consid- 
lleal and logical ered. The subject-matter is so far removed from common observation, and 
confounded. 1 ™ ' the language is necessarily so abstract, especially in those sciences which re- 
late to the human soul or any of its products, that it is not always certain, if 
the definitions appear to be consistent and complete, that there are answering realities in the 
actual universe. Scientific truth implies both logical and real truth. Logical truth is but 
another name for logical consistency. A dexterous logician, if suffered to frame his own con- 
cepts and construct his own propositions, may easily frame a system which shall have suffi 
cient truth to give plausibility to all that is defective by omission, or false by positive error 
Every definition should therefore be scrutinized in both these aspects and relations. It should 
always be remembered that a proposition may be logically true and yet really false, while 
science requires that the definition should not only be logically consistent and logically com- 
plete, but also really exhaustive and really true. 



436 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §433 

We consider next Judgments of Extent. 

pro ositioneof ^e P ro P os ^ on °f extent is the natural consequent of the 
extent, follow proposition of content. The proposition of content is first 
-ent. in time, because the knowledge of the individual goes before 

the knowledge of the general, or if the two are distinguished together, 
the general is first known as belonging to the individual and affirmable 
of it. As soon, however, as a single attribute is affirmed as common to 
many individuals, then this common attribute can be conceived as itself 
dividing or constituting these individuals into a class by themselves. As 
soon as we think, This house is white, it is possible for us to refer the 
house to the class of white objects. But because every generalized 
attribute may classify the objects to which it belongs, it does not follow 
that the mind recognizes it in this relation, or expresses the relation in 
language. It is not till the adjective, white, becomes a noun, that we 
use it as a classifier, and think or say, whites, i. e., white men, are English, 
French, etc., etc., or white things are so and so. It is not till we turn 
back upon our thinking, and recognize the fact that these attributes 
divide the beings to which they belong into classes, and go further and 
notice that some of the classes of objects are wider and some narrower 
than others, that we have occasion to think of these notions in their 
extent, or to expand them into propositions of extent. 

Indeed it is not till the formal classifications of science begin to be formed 
Of especial im- and fixed, that such propositions make much figure in language, or that they 
science, are sharply distinguished from propositions of content. It occasionally 

happens in common life that we find such assertions as the following or their 
equivalents : Of trees there are oak, maple, pine, etc. Of oaks there are white oak, black oak, 
rock oak, etc., etc. The inhabitants of Great Britain are English, Scotch, Irish and Welsh. 
But when our classes are perfected by scientific research, then we find such propositions as 
the following: The human race is made up of Jive varieties according to Blumenbach, viz., 
the Caucasian, the Mongolian, the Ethiopian, the American and the Malayan, or into three 
according to Cuvier ; or into seven according to Prichard; or into eight according to Agassiz; 
or into eleven according to Pickering. Or the Mammalia are divided into Archonts, Megas- 
ihenes, Microsthenes and Ooticoids, each of which divisions except the first are numerously 
subdivided. So we say the powers of the soul are intellect, sensibility and will. The faculties 
of the intellect are three : presentation, representation and thought. Our duties are three- 
fold : to God, our fellow-men, and ourselves. Every such proposition expresses the single 
relation of extent. The concept is expanded by a distinct and complete enumeration of the 
narrower concepts by which the individuals which make up its extent are divided. In such 
propositions, the larger or wider concept is naturally the subject, though it makes little differ- 
ence which is placed first in the order of writing or utterance: the import is the same 
whether we say, the inhabitants of Great Britain are"English, Scotch, Irish and Welsh ; or the 
English, Scotch, Irish and Welsh constitute or make up the inhabitants of Great Britain. 

Propositions founded upon the relation of extent appear in logic, as conjunc- 
Kton8 C of proposi- tive, disjunctive and partitive, according to the several uses to which the 
tions of extent. p rO p 0S iti n, or the argument founded upon it, is designed to be applied. We 
may say A=«, b and c ; or every A is either a, b or c, or every a is A, i. e. is a part of A. 



§ 435. JUDGMENT AND THE PROPOSITION. 437 

propositions of § 434. Propositions of extent, whether used in common life 

content and ex- r> ,i /?• -i-it.* • i. i i r> 

ten^ imply one or for the purposes of science, are clearly distinguishable from 
propositions of content. It is, however, easy to confound the 
one with the other ; and easy to interchange the one with the other. The 
one relation is so intimately connected with the other, that we are often 
tempted to translate the propositions which express the one into those 
which express the other. We cannot say that man is an animal without 
implying that he possesses those attributes which are involved in the con- 
cept and term animal. Whenever we assert that man is a species of which 
animal is a genus, we must ascribe to man certain attributes. Conversely 
we cannot assert certain attributes of man without placing him in a certain 
class. As soon as we add other attributes to those which are essential to the 
genus, we must in fact divide this genus into species of narrower extent. 

These facts are not at all inconsistent with the truth that we at some times use proposi- 
tions with sole reference to their content, and at other times with exclusive respect to their 
extent. Indeed, the use of propositions of extent is a necessary condition and consequence of 
logical division. If division is distinguishable from definition, then are propositions of extent 
clearly distinguishable from propositions of content. 

Sir William Hamilton, in order at once to reach the highest generalization conceivable, and to provide 
for his peculiar theory of the syllogism, treats the relations of both extent and content under the terms and 
relations of quantity, i. e., of extent only. For example : in the proposition, Milk is white, we may con- 
ceive the substance milk as contained in the class of white things — or the concept milk as containimg 
white in its logical essence. In both cases we have the relation of a whole to its parts, the difference being, 
that in the one case a genus contains its species or sorts, and in the other the concept contains its elements. 
This view is purely logical, being taken and applied merely for purposes of logical convenience. The value 
of this view for logical purposes i* open to discussion. Even if it should be conceded to be very great, it 
does not follow as a consequence, that the distinction between propositions of content and extent does not 
represent two original relations, both of which are involved in the existence of every concept, and the recog- 
nition of both of which is implied in every act of thought. 

§ 435. Moreover, as the process of definition conducts to a 
division perfect- completed proposition of content, so does division culminate 

in an exact and complete proposition of extent. Both of 
these processes are involved in the beginnings of thinking. They are only 
carried forward to their normal perfection when we reach the precise and 
comprehensive knowledge which science attains. Both are the necessary 
condition of the formation and use of general terms, and are the constant 
accompaniments of language. Both are perfected in their ideal aims 
whenever the definitions in any branch of knowledge become precise and 
true, and the divisions become orderly and exhaustive. 

It is a superficial error but not the less serious, to suppose that scientific 
sV^e n tt f i°c knowledge differs in kind from common knowledge ; to imagine or reason as 
to common though the man of scientific thinking has developed or exercised intellectual 

powers which are used by himself alone, or has discovered special processes or 
devised special rules which have no relation to the processes and methods which are 
natural to the thinking powers. The powers employed by the true philosopher and 
the uncultured are the same. The common man thinks as really, and in his way he thinks 
as effectively and as sagaciously, as does the philosopher. He fails in this only, that he 



438 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §435. 

does not judge so carefully, because he does not judge under the pressure and guidance 
of so definite and earnest intellectual aims. Both define and divide, and in one sense 
do little else. They are continually pronouncing judgments of extent and content. The one 
defines with greater exactness and divides with greater care than the other, because he has a 
constant regard to the consistency of every concept and proposition with every other, and to 
the coherence of all together in the subordinations of a completed system. Both employ lan- 
guage in the service of their common purpose. The one uses terms with a more fixed and 
definite meaning and applies them to existing objects with a nicer and more comprehensive obser- 
vation and induction. 

Not easy to di- ^ f°H° ws that we can nowhere find the dividing line 
an e d CO Sentiao wn ^ cn separates common from scientific knowledge. We 
knowledge. cannot say, in the history of any branch of knowledge, Here 

common knowledge ceases, and science begins. At this point he who 
knows as a man, begins to know as a philosopher. 

Of some sciences it is true, that at a certain period of their development, common terms are 
exchanged for those which are technical, and a scholastic, sometimes a repulsive nomencla- 
ture takes the place of words which are familiar from use and warm with grateful associa- 
tions. Even objects that in the earliest classifications have been grouped together by affinities 
so close that they seem to have a necessary and unbroken relationship, are strangely separated ; 
finding themselves suddenly in new and unpleasant society. Plants and trees apparently the 
most alike are thrown into the most distant groups, and those which are apparently the most 
diverse and dissimilar are inexplicably brought together. But if we analyze the processes and 
examine their reasons, we shall find that these changes are owing to no sudden leap over a mys- 
terious dividing chasm, but have been effected by natural progress and easy transitions ; that these 
bristling terms of art are easily translated into their equivalent common words, while the 
scientific divisions are founded on likenesses and differences that are simply less obvious, but 
when noticed are fully accepted by the judgment of all men. 

In those sciences which are less technical in their definitions and classifications, the points 
of transition and division are not even suspected. We cannot find the place where science in its 
technical form begins ; and formally takes its leave of common knowledge. In Psychology, 
Ethics, Politics, Law and Theology, common terms are in a great measure still retained ; only 
(hey are employed with a more careful definition and a more exact application. 

It does not follow, because common and scientific knowledge differ only 
in the degree of perfection with which thought is conducted, that 
the dignity or importance of science is thereby in the least diminished. 

Science when viewed in the light of our analysis is simply 

Science rightly T , , , . 7 , 7 „ 7 . -, T 

conceived and knowledge by concepts carefully defined in order to a complete 
division and methodized arrangement of the things or objects 
to which these concepts are applicable. 

In forming scientific notions, the mind discovers relations and attributes which it ha* 
never observed before. In looking more patiently, it observes more closely. As it proceeds 
to use and apply the notions already attained in the processes of deduction and induction 
which are yet to be explained, it discerns still other relations of likeness and unlikeness. 
Every new conclusion and generalization prepares the way for new notions which involve new 
propositions of content and extent. As it proceeds in its triumphant course it still continues 
to define and divide. It began when it formed its first proposition of content. This involved 
i proposition of extent. 



§437. REASONING. DEDUCTION OR MEDIATE JUDGMENT. 439 

It will have finished its course and completed the circle of its possible 
triumphs, when it shall have exhausted all that is knowable by these 
two processes, each involving the other — when it shall have arranged all 
its knowledge in systematic order, by a per feet and subordinated division 
as the result of true and exhaustive definitions. 



CHAPTER VI. 

REASONING. DEDUCTION OR MEDIATE JUDGMENT. 

From Judgment we proceed to Reasoning by a natural and almost necessary transition ; the 
one being but a special application of the other. Indeed Reasoning is properly defined 
as Mediate or Indirect Judgment. Of Reasoning there are the two universally recognized 
forms ; Deduction and Induction. Of these, Deduction as the Process and the Syllogism as 
the Product claim our first attention ; with both we are made familiar in books of Logic. 
With the logical consideration of the two, however, we need concern ourselves no further 
than this may aid us to understand the Psychological relations of both Process and Prod- 
uct as a method and object of knowledge. 

Thus considered, Deductive Reasoning, as a psychological process, is an important 
topic in the study of the Human Intellect. 

§ 436. The process of thought or mode of thinking which 
importance of we are naturally led to consider next in order is reasoning. 

reasoning. . m " 

That to reason is a function of the thinking power as defined, 
will be questioned by none. By many it is esteemed the special function 
of thought. By some it is conceived to be its sole and single function, 
absorbing all the rest into itself. There have been those who make the 
capacity to reason, to be the exclusive and distinctive endowment of 
man. Such have striven to account for all the other thought-processes 
by resolving them into this. 

• 

That Reasoning is a form or mode of thinking is evident from the fact that 
Reasoning is a man reasons by the aid of notions, and without concepts cannot reason at 
™ g , ' all. The conclusions which he reaches as the result of reasoning, alwaya 

embrace at least one such notion ; more usually they include two. The 
predicate of every demonstrated Proposition must always be a generalized notion. The subject 
is very often such a notion also. 

8 437. Reasoning, also, like every other act or mode of 

Reasoning m- » ■ m »> ' ... 

voives judg- knowing, involves judgment. Its conclusion is expressed is 
a proposition or judgment. The material from which this 
conclusion is derived, and upon which it depends, is judgments. When 
we reason, * this man is a murderer, and therefore is not fit to live ' : or, 'this 
man is not fit to live, because he is a murderer ' : or when we expand the 



440 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 437 

same argument into the form, e no murderer is fit to live, this man is a mur 
derer, therefore this man is not fit to live ' : we express the result of the 
process in a judgment, and we use one or more judgments in reaching it. 
Not only does reasoning imply or involve judgment, but it- 
is itself an act i s itself an act of iudsrment. It is distinguished from iudo*- 

of judgment. v o o j & 

ment proper by being mediate and indirect ; whereas judg- 
ments proper are immediate and direct. 

immediate or ^ ne acts °^ judgment proper have already been explained 
mints * ^ udg " as ac ts in which a general notion is thought or affirmed of 

an individual being, by, so to speak, direct inspection 
and comparison. The materials are the beings or objects themselves. 
These are compared and analyzed in the manner described. The attribute, 
property or relation is generalized directly from the objects to which it 
belongs, and is therefore applied to or judged of them. When, for ex- 
ample, we judge of ten apples, that they are red, or oval, or round, or 
of equal or unequal weight, or of similar taste or odor, we perform acts 
of direct or immediate judgment. 
, r ... . . But when we reason concerning them, that because they are 

Mediate or in- & -> j 

direct judg- red, or similar in odor, therefore they taste alike, we judge 

ments. m \ 7 m . * 7 J & 

indirectly or mediately ; we consider, not only the apples 
themselves, but the relation of one of their properties to another. This 
truth is implied though not fully expressed in the remark that in judg- 
ment we compare two notions, and discern or pronounce that the notions 
agree or disagree ; whereas in reasoning we compare two judgments, and 
declare or discern that the judgments agree or disagree. This statement, 
while it docs not fully explain the nature of either judgment or reasoning, 
asserts truly that the two processes are alike in an important feature. 

The same truth is expressed in the assertion that in judgment we discern a single relation 
by comparison of similar qualities or attributes, whereas in reasoning we discern a similarity 
of relations and by this similarity connect two notions in a single judgment. As every notion 
is a contracted judgment and every judgment is an expanded notion; so every judgment is a 
contracted argument, and every argument is an expanded judgment. Judgment and reasoning 
do not differ so much as processes, as in the materials or conditions with or on which the pro- 
cesses are performed. It is a very superficial view of reasoning, involving not only defects but 
serious errors, to overlook the relations by which it stands connected with, and as it were 
grows out of, judgment. To hold that to reason is one mode of knowing and to judge is 
another, and that the one goes before, and the other follows after by a necessity or dependence 
which we cannot explain, fails altogether to satisfy the mind. All who reflect enough to ask 
the question believe that the relation between the two is more vital and intimate. Cf. Whe- 
well. Phil of the Inductive Sciences. B. II. c. xi. § 1, also Locke, Essay, B. IV. c. ii. §§ 1, 
2 ; also Milton, Par. Lost, B. V. 486-90. 

If we distinguish the process of reasoning from the product or result — as in the other 
acts of the intellect — we should call the first reasoning and the second an argument. These 
two terms are often interchanged for one another, as in other similar cases ; and the proper 
meaning of each is not strictly adhered to in common nor even in philosophical usage. These 
terms are also usually and almost exclusively limited to deduction. 



§438. REASONING. DEDUCTION OE MEDIATE JUDGMENT. 44.3 

The process called reasoning is twofold, inductive and de 

Reasoning, J- . . v .,. 

; ,nduetive and ductive. It is known by the two names, induction and 

deductive. ^ . ,.... . , , , , 

deduction. These two are sufficiently distinguished by the 
following definitions. In deduction the mind begins with general prop- 
ositions and reasons to those which are particular or individual. In 
induction, it reasons from individual or particular to general judgments. 
In deduction we assume or imply that the mind is already 
The two dis- furnished with judgments or beliefs that are more or less 
general, and proceed to found upon them or derive from 
them, those which are particular or singular. In other words w T e apply 
the predicate of these general propositions to a particular or individual, 
which we had not thought of or known before. For example : ' every 
act of filial duty ought to be performed ; therefore, in choosing our busi- 
ness in life, we ought to consult the wishes of our parents.' In induc- 
tion, on the contrary, we proceed from the singular or particular to 
general propositions or truths. We possess only individual facts, or less 
general truths, and by means of these we know 7 more general truths, 

* principles or laws. We observe that one or several pieces of iron-ore, 
with certain characteristics, are magnetic. We infer that every similar 

v piece of iron-ore is magnetic. From the individual and the particular 
we derive the general. 

In deduction we begin with the content, and we consider the extent of the notion, bringing 
under the latter particular or individual matter that we had not known before to stand under 
this relation, and we end with uniting this content with a new or more limited notion of extent. 

In induction we begin with the extent of a notion, as this or that particular fact or truth, and 
we connect it for the first time with a content never affirmed of it before. Sometimes, by thi? 
means or in this connection we discover a content never previously known or affirmed, of any 
extent. As for example, in the contraction of the leg of a frog was discovered the galvanic 
power with its laws. 

Both these processes are called processes of reasoning. The means employed, i. e., the 
grounds or foundations of each, whether they are general or particular propositions or 
individual facts, are called reasons, sometimes data. But to reason, par eminence, is to per- 
form the process of deduction; and reasons or grounds of belief are preeminently those 
general principles or truths from which we derive or deduce particular conclusions. Hence, 
when we use the words to reason and a reason, we are usually understood to have in mind 
the deductive process. On the other hand, we say freely that we reason by induction or 
inductively; and no phrases are more common than inductive reasoning and reasoning by 
induction. 

The two o- P 38 - These two processes are usually combined together in 
cesses often con- every case in which our knowledge is enlarged by what we 
call reasoning. WTien we use examples of reasoning for the 
purpose of illustrating the nature of the process, we seem to be able to sep- 
arate deduction from induction, and to employ each process separately. 
But whenever we reason with the express design of enlarging our knowl- 
edge by some addition, or of increasing our confidence in that w r hich we 



442 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §439 

already have gained — we find that both processes are called into requisi- 
tion. If, for example, we should reason deductively, to prove to a person 
who did not already believe it, that a particular act, as to obey or perhaps 
to resist the government, was obligatory ; we should probably be obliged to 
use the process of induction to prove that such an act was distinguished by 
the characteristics or criteria which showed it to come under the duties of 
a loyal citizen. To establish this satisfactorily, might require another and 
perhaps more than a single process of deduction, but inductive processes 
would also be required. 

In all cases of induction, also, when the mind is first actually in doubt 
and afterwards attains to satisfaction and discovery, the process of deduc- 
tion is brought into requisition. We can scarcely suppose that Franklin 
established the identity of lightning with machine electricity, or Newton 
reached the law and the fact of universal gravitation, without asking 
themselves many times over what would be the consequents in fact, if 
either of these -were truths ; that they might be able to decide by the 
verification of experiment, whether these deduced consequents were 
true. We know that Sir Isaac Newton drew certain inferences from the 
supposition that the law of gravitation was true, when combined with a 
false datum in respect to the earth's diameter ; and because observed facts 
did not coincide with the theory, he rejected or held in suspense the theory 
which his so-called induction had already reached. 

Induction, and Deduction like the Analysis and Synthesis of which they are 
Often verv inti- special forms, accompany each other in all the higher processes of thought. 
mately blended. ij] ie ^ w0 blend together so intimately that it is often difficult to sever them, or to 

find or trace the line where the one begins and the other terminates. They 
run together so readily and are so intimately united, that it is often hard to decide whether the 
process is inductive or deductive, because it is difficult to decide with which the mind begins — 
the particular or the general, or whether both these relations are not considered together. 

8 439. Reasoning, in both these forms, is an act or mode of 

Reasoning, an « »' 7 

act of knowledge knowledge. . It is also more specially defined as an act or 

and of thought. ^ . . 

mode of thinking. As an act of thought it is required that 
its object-matter or material should be notions or concepts. But an act 
of knowledge has been defined as involving, not only the apprehension 
that special objects are or exist, but that they exist in certain relations. 
The object-matter of reasoning being concepts or objects as notionized, 
it remains to consider what are the relations under which these are 
known in reasoning. This inquiry has in part been answered. To reason, 
is to know objects by means of or in relation to their reasons or grounds. 
In other words, to reason is to discover or apply reasons for what we 
discover or already believe to be true. These definitions and explanations 
must suffice concerning reasoning in general ; they serve to prepare for and 
introduce the particular consideration of each of its forms. We begin 
with — 



I 



§441. SEASONING. DEDUCTION OK MEDIATE JUDGMENT. 443 






Deduction and the Syllogism. 

§ 440. There is a general agreement of opinion in respect to the views which 
Agreement and have thus far been expressed. The propositions which we have laid down 
opinion. would be generally assented to. It is true, they would be somewhat variously 

interpreted and explained according to the special system or school of opinion 
in metaphysics and psychology to which the interpreter belonged, but the propositions them- 
selves would command almost universal assent. But when we come to a more precise and 
accurate theory of Deduction and Induction, we find great vagueness as well as great diversity 
of opinion. We cannot excuse ourselves for this reason from the attempt to ascertain and vindi- 
cate the true theory of each. We are compelled to make a critical and separate consideration 
of these two processes, and of the forms of language in which they are recorded and expressed. 

It should here be premised that our point of view is primarily psychological 
^cholo^al' 011 anc * BOt l°gi ca l or metaphysical. We are directly concerned with the inquiry 
not logical or ' What are the intellectual processes which we actually perform when we 

reason ? ' The answer to this question does indeed involve the development 
and determination of the objects with which the process is concerned and the relations which 
it pre-supposes; and, in so far, it implies logical and speculative discussions. But logic dis- 
cusses reasoning, and especially deduction and the syllogism, for other ends than to ascertain 
the psychology of the process and the consequent nature of the product which it educes or 
creates. It considers them chiefly for the purpose of establishing the rules and criteria which 
guide to correct, and secure against false reasoning. It analyzes and studies the various forms 
of language in which valid and invalid syllogisms can possibly be phrased or expressed, for the 
purpose of showing the relation of the one to the other so as to aid the reasoner in securinp; 
himself and in guarding others against fallacious and sophistical arguments. The metaphysical 
consideration of reasoning goes still farther. It analyzes and evolves the original conceptions 
and primary truths which reasoning pre-supposes, and on which its authority rests. Psychol- 
ogy does both of these indirectly but does neither primarily and confessedly. It is chiefly 
concerned with what the intellect consciously performs and produces, and the treatment of the 
conditions and objects which our subjective processes presuppose and evolve. 



§ 441. Our chief inquiry is, what is the proper conception of 
Se e product? and the deductive as an intellectual process; and incidental to 
this, what is the nature and what the results of the product 
which it evolves. Perhaps we can answer this question most satisfactorily 
if we consider first of all, the forms of language in which the process is 
expressed and its results are preserved. 

These forms are two, the JEnthymeme and the Syllogism, or the 
and the syiio- abbreviated and the expanded syllogism. The enthymeme con- 
sists of two expressed propositions, which are connected by he- 
cause or therefore. The syllogism consists of 'three, of which the first two are 
simple assertions, and the third is introduced by therefore. For example, 31 

A n ( vsvrper ) fherpfnrp he S cannot exact obedience ? nr 71,/" j cannot exact allegiance \ 
tSa [lawful rider \ mer V 0r(i /ie I ought to be obeyed \ or ±}± \ ought to be obeyed \ 

because he is j a lawfufrZer \ are examples of the two forms of the enthy- 

mprriP J No usurper can require allegiance I M i s j a usurper ) th erpftvrp IV 1 
meme. "j Every lawful ruler ought to be obeyed f xU lb 1 a lawful ruler f meinore JH 

\ can ouhttfit ob?ed nce } are examples of tne expanded syllogism. 

In the enthymeme, the first proposition may be either the conclusion, 
or it may be the reason. In the syllogism, the first proposition is called 



444 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §442. 

the major premise; the second, the minor premise; and the third, the con 

elusion. 

The two premises of every syllogism mnst have one term 

The middle , t i-, js'i-'. • -ii -i .i •-*-« t 

term, its signi- common to both, which is called the middle term. In the ex- 
amples given — lawful ruler and usurper are the middle terms 
respectively of the two syllogisms. Unless there is this middle term, there 
is no force or convincing power in the argument. It is obvious that if 
we substitute any other term in either premise so as to introduce two 
middle terms, there is nothing to lead to a conclusion. If we substitute 
a worthy or unworthy person for lawful ruler or usurper, no conclusion 
will follow. 

Every enthymeme can be expanded into a syllogism. The syllogism when expanded 
expresses in separate propositions the truths which the enthymeme implies. There is in 
every enthymeme the suppressed premise of a syllogism. When we reason in the examples 
given, M is a lawful ruler, therefore he ought to be obeyed, or M ought to be obeyed because 
he is the lawful ruler, we believe and imply in the argument — though we do not assert — that 
every lawful ruler ought to be obeyed. This is the major Premise of the syllogism into which 
the enthymeme is by this addition naturally expanded. The difference between the enthymeme 
and the syllogism is only a difference between a contracted and an expanded form of expres- 
sion ; or between an elliptical and a fully explicated sentence. It is a difference of language 
only, and not in the least a difference of thought or of the relations of thought or knowl- 
edge ; what is expressed in one being implied in the other. 

8 442. It has been earnestly disputed whether the syllogism is 

Is the syllogism °_ - „ ,. .. \. . . , • - 

a or the form of the lorm proper to all deductive reasoning or only a form 
after which all such reasoning may be conducted and in which 
it may be expressed. Thus, Principal Campbell in his Philosophy of Rhetoric 
contends that the syllogistic is only one of the possible methods of reason- 
ing, while there are others which are in many cases greatly to be preferred 
to this; and J. S. Mill, in his Logic, urges that it is not a form of reasoning 
at all, but a convenient expedient for recording and referring to our experi- 
ence of particular or individual cases, It is obvious for the reasons 
already given, that it is a form into which all deductive reasoning may be 
phrased, and it is the one and the only form in which all the materials 
considered and the relations involved are fully stated in language. We 
concede that it is a form of linguistic expression or phraseology, but it is the 
form appropriate to deduction, because it brings out in language all that 
is thought in the mind. When for example we supply the premise that 
had been suppressed in the enthymeme, we do not add that which is 
superfluous to the process through which we have gone or to the argu- 
ment which the process implied. We simply express in language what 
we had thought or were ready to think in fact — that which if we had not 
believed when we drew our conclusion, we should not have reached it 
at all. Thus, if we did not believe that all lawful rulers ought to be 
obeyed, we could not reach the inference that M ought to be obeyed be* 



§443. REASONING. DEDUCTION" OR MEDIATE JUDGMENT. 445 

cause he is the lawful ruler. We conclude therefore that the c©rrect 
view of the syllogism is, that while it is not essential that any process of 
deduction should be stated in this form in order to be valid, yet this is 
the form in which every such process must be expressed when it is 
fully expanded in language. 

. Again ; In the syllogism the process of reasoning is fully expanded and corn- 

completed pro- plete. It cannot be enlarged or extended into any form which is more 
of tedu^tion? UCt complex. Any additional propositions, whether connected with either of the 
premises or with the conclusion, are seen at once to be a premise or a conclu- 
sion of another process. If for example we enlarge the premise, ' all lawful rulers ought to be 
obeyed,' by the reason 'because it is the will of God, or an obvious duty,' we find ourselves per- 
forming an additional process of reasoning, the object of which is to prove that the first 
premise is correct. If we add a reason for holding that M is a lawful ruler, as l because he has 
been properly commissioned or fairly elected,' we do the same for the second premise. If we 
annex to the conclusion an additional remark, as therefore M ought to be obeyed, and to dis- 
obey him is a serious crime,' we simply introduce a second conclusion, which requires another 
argument to support it. 

Possible changes Ever y argument, whether positive or negative, whether the 
the -viio^ism ° f P ro P os itions are universal or particular, can be expressed in 
the form which has already been stated, by changes in the 
phraseology or the position of the terms, without affecting the sense or the 
force of the argument. 

This is demonstrated at length in every treatise on formal logic. A few examples will 
suffice for our purpose. If we make the first premise negative by substituting 'no lawful ruler 
should be disobeyed,' the real nature of the argument is not changed. The same is true if in 
the second premise we substitute ' some persons,' or use a part cf a class as an equivalent to a 
smaller whole. 

If we change the form of the first premise by inverting the order of the terms or by con- 
verting it, which we can do with the negative premise and retain its full meaning, we bring 
the middle term into the predicate of each of the premises ; but the argument and its power 
to prove a conclusion are the same. 

If we convert in a similar way the second, or minor premise, it brings the middle term into 
the subject of each premise, but this does not alter the strength of the argument. 

If we transpose the order of the premises, the relations of each part to the conclusion is 
the same, whatever may be the order in which the two are uttered. These are the only 
changes possible in the mutual relation of the parts of the syllogism, but none of these 
affect the nature or force of the argument. 

S 443. We mav therefore safely conclude that the form of 

Problem or ° ,'■•', *f 

question propos- the syllogism which we have first stated is as good as any 
other to illustrate and exemplify the nature of the process of 
reasoning. 

We proceed therefore to inquire, what does the analysis of the syllogistic 
form teach in respect to the nature of deduction as a psychological 
process. As it is a full expression or expansion in language of all the 
materials required and all the relations involved in an act of reasoning^ 



446 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §443. 

no way can be so satisfactory and decisive of knowing what it is to rea- 
son, as to analyze the syllogism. 

We find first of all, that in every syllogism the force of rea 
SgnScant! term soning depends on what is called the middle term. We have 

already observed that in every convincing syllogism one 
term must be used twice. Not only is this necessary, but this term must 
stand in a fixed relation to each of the remaining terms, or no conclusion 
can be reached. 

That relation is indicated by the maxim announced by 
Iristotie! um ° f Aristotle, which is usually called the dictum de omni et nullo. 

It is as follows : whatever is predicated of a class either 
affirmatively or negatively, may be affirmed of tohatever is contained in or 
under the class. 

The original passage in Aristotle, npon which the dictum is founded, i3 the following : "Ocra Kara tow 
KaTTjyopov/Ac'vou AiyeTai, irdvTa kcu Kara tou viroKeifievov prj0jj<reTat. (Cat, C. V. p. 3, & 4) ; cf. Analyt. prior, 
I. 27, p. 43 a 25 ; 1. 28, p. 43 & 39. Top. IV. I. p. 121 a 25. We subjoin the following note of Trendelen- 
burg. Idem prseceptum quasi syllogismorum fundamentum posteriores logici varie extulerunt aut in hunc 
modum : nota notae est etiam nota rei, repugnans notae repugnat etiam rei, (nota autem nihil fere aliud 
qunm prsedicatum,) aut in hunc modum : quidquid de omnibus valet, valet etiam de quibusdam et singu- 
lis ; quidquid de nullo valet, nee de quibusdam et singulis valet. (Elem. Log. Arist, p. 89). 

The middle term like every concept, stands to other notions in the two relations of extent 
and content. 'A notion that is or is not in this extent, may or may not take to itself the notion 
which is its content.' This last formula has the advantage of stating concisely both the 
likeness and the difference between an act of judgment and an act of reasoning. In an act of 
judgment, as we have seen, a concept may be expanded either in the direction of its extent or 
of its content. So far as the single act of judgment is concerned, the notion is viewed in only 
one relation, that of its extent or of its content, as the case may be. In an act of reasoning, a 
notion, i. e., the middle term, is viewed in both these relations at once, as it were, and the result 
is that a relation is observed between notions, where it had not been discerned before. 

We set aside, as not material to our purpose, the special construction of the syllogism pro- 
posed by Hamilton {Met Lee. 37), by which the relations of content are resolved into 
The maxim of those of extent, and the maxim de omni et nullo is displaced by the following maxim ; 
Hamilton. < whatever is a part of a part, is a part of its containing whole.'' We grant that it is 

possible to contemplate and express the relations of content always as those of extent. 
In the example, all lawful rulers ought to be obeyed, we may say, the concept, all lawful rultrs, is a part of the 
notion, ought to be obeyed, and M is a part of all lawful rulers, therefore M is a part of the containing whole 
ought to be obeyed. To express every syllogism in the language and under the relations of quantity may 
or may not be convenient for any proposed logical analysis, but it does not set aside the relations of quality, 
and their importance to the act of reasoning. The distinction still remains between the attribute or prop- 
erty, and being or substance ; on which, as we have seen, rests all the possibility of forming the notion, 
and of using it in judgment. 

But whether we adopt the maxim of Aristotle or the maxim of Hamilton, it is all the 6ame with our 
view of the middle term of the syllogism. It still remains fixed that the middle term must be compre- 
hended under, or excluded from, another general term, in order that a conclusion may be reached. 

The theory of the syllogism which founds the conclusion on the relation of agree- 
Dictum of agree- ment between the terms is nearly allied to that of Hamilton. According to this view, 
rccnt or n o n - the major and minor terms are conceived to agree (or not to agree) with the middle term, 
the^enns 611 * and consequently to agree with one another. What is meant by to agree with, is not 
very clear, unless the terms denote mathematical quantities, and the parts of syllogisms 
are resolved into a series of equations. If* however, the phrase mean to be interchangeable in the conver- 
sion of propositions, then, we have the theory of Hamilton, whose chief object seems to have been to devist 



§444. REASONING. DEDUCTION OR MEDIATE JUDGMENT. 447 

an analysis of the syllogism which should dispense with the necessity of conversion and reduction 
^cf. Log., App. Y. and X.). 

Another theory, founded on the interchangeableness of the terms, makes reasoning to 

be a process by which we are justified in substituting one term for another. For ex- 
^vfcution S ample, All men are mortal, etc., signifies : "Wherever ^ou find man, you cm 

substitute or read mortal : "Wherever you find Peter, you can read man ; therefore, 

wherever you find Peter, you can read or substitute mortal. Both these views present, 
in principle, nothing new. They are founded on mathematical relations, from which the illustrations 
and language are both derived. 

J. S. Mill urges that the relation of the general to the particular is a mere accident in 
Dictum of J. S. the syllogism ; that we reason from the particular [the individual] to the particular [the 
Mill- individual] ; that the use of general propositions is a mere matter of convenience, in so 

far as it enables us to refer, in a convenient form, to some of our experiences in the past, 
and to apply any one of them to the individual present. For example, it is in no way essential to the con- 
clusion, that we be able to state all lawful rulers ought to be obeyed, for we should reason that M ought to 
be obeyed, from any single example of a lawful ruler who ought to command obedience. " If, from our 
experience of John, Thomas, etc., who once were living, but are now dead, we are entitled to con- 
clude that all human beings are mortal, we might surely, without any logical inconsequence, have con- 
cluded at once from these instances, that the Duke of "Wellington is mortal. The mortality of John, 
Thomas, and company, is, after all, the whole evidence we have of the mortality of the Duke of "Wellington. 
Not one iota is added to the proof by interpolating a general proposition." " Not only may we reason 
from particulars to particulars, without passing through generals, but we perpetually do so reason. All 
our earliest inferences are of this nature. The child who, having burnt his fingers, avoids to thrust them 
again into the fire, has reasoned or inferred, though he has never thought of the general maxim, fire 
burns. * * * He is not generalizing ; he is inferring a particular from particulars. * * * From the 
considerations now adduced, the following conclusions seem to be established : All inference is from parti- 
culars to particulars ; general propositions are merely registers of such inferences already made, and short 
formulae for making more. The major premise of a syllogism, consequently, is a formula of this description, 
and the conclusion is not an inference drawn from the formula, but an inference drawn according to the 
formula, the real logical antecedent or premises being the particular facts from which the general 
proposition was collected by induction." {Logic, B. II. c. 3, §§ 3, 4. Cf. Locke Essay, B. IV. c. 17, §8.) 

The doctrine of Mill is just at the opposite extreme from the doctrine of Hamilton. 
How related to Hamilton makes the syllogism and deduction to depend solely on the relations of ex- 
the dictum* of tent. Mill excludes these altogether, and makes the relations of content to be sufficient 
Hamilton. &n( j g0 ^ e< «The major premise, which, as already remarked, is always universal, 

asserts, that all things which have a certain attribute (or attributes; have, or have not, 
along with it, a certain other attribute (or attributes). The minor premise asserts that the thing or set of 
things which are the subject of that premise, have the first-mentioned attribute ; and the conclusion is, 
that they have, or that they have not the second. Thus, in our former example, all men are mortal, 
Socrates is a man, therefore Socrates is mortal, the subject and predicate of the major premise are connota- 
tive terms, denoting objects and connoting attributes. The assertion in the major premise is, that along 
with one of the two sets of attributes we always find the others ; that the attributes connoted by man never 
exist unless conjoined with the attribute called mortality. The assertion in the minor premise is, that the. 
individual named Socrates possessed the former attributes ; and it is concluded that he possesses also the 
attribute mortality," etc., etc. Logic, B. II. c. 2, § 3. 

It is rather singular that Mill should have overlooked the fact that many of the scholastics adopted 
precisely the maxim which he propounds, without dreaming that they introduced a principle inconsistent 
with the dictum de omni et nullo. The maxim, Nota notse est etiam nola rei, repugnans nolce rcpagnat 
ctiam rei, is exactly coincident with the maxim of Mill. Cf. Twesten., Logik insoesondere die Analytilc, 1825, 
§§ 105 and 152. Trendelenburg, in the passage cited (§ 443), affirms that the two maxims coincide. 

"We proceed to affirm that 

n n of these § ^^' ^e re l at i° ns °f a P ar ^ t° a whole, or of both extent 
mcta satisfac- an ^ content combined, do not give to the premises of the 
syllogism the power of demonstration. They suggest bat 
do not express the relation which furnishes to the deductive process its 
convincing power over the mind. While it is necessary that in every syllo- 
gism the relations of part to the whole should be expressed ; yet this is 
not the relation which gives to the deductive process its importance as 
a method of knowledge. No syllogism is valid to which the dictum de 



448 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §437. 

omni et nullo cannot be applied, but it does not follow that the maxim 
contains the real ground of our faith in the process which the syllogism 
expresses in language. It may be taken as a decisive criterion and suffi- 
cient rule by which to judge whether a syllogism is conclusive or fallacious, 
and yet only suggest without expressing what actually influences the mind 
to accept the conclusion. The relations, of both major and minor 
terms to the extent and the content of the middle, may be the only rela- 
tions that are expressed in language, and yet not furnish the real relation 
which leads to our belief or knowledge. The rule de omni et nullo may 
test every syllogism without stating the relations on which the argument 
rests for its force to compel assent. 

In point of fact, every attempt to explain the deductive process, as such, by these relations, 

has failed, and the failure of these attempts has perpetually exposed the doctrine of the Syl 

logism to suspicion and contempt. Cf. Locke, Essay, B. IV. Chap. 17, § § 4-8 ; G. Campbell, 

Phil, of Rhetoric, B. I. Chap. 6 ; D. Stewart, Elements, P. II. Chaps. 2, 3 & 4 ; J. S. Mill, 

System of Logic, B. II. Chap. 3 ; S. Bailey, Tlieory of Reasoning. 

The objection usually urged against tliis construction of the Syllogism and the 

The Syllogism deductive process, is that they involve a petitio principii either in one of the 

not apetitio . . , , . , . , : ■ , 

principii. premises or m the conclusion, making the process to be either a needless 

repetition of what is already known or a trifling explication of what was 
obviously implied. For example, it is said by some, we cannot already know that every lawful 
ruler ought to be obeyed, unless we have considered the case of every particular ruler, past, 
present and future. But if we have done this we have already considered and assented to the 
conclusion that M (one of the cases) ought to be obeyed, and it is useless to prove it by a 
process of deduction. 

To this it is replied, that we rarely if ever obtain our knowledge of what is true of a whole 
class, by the observation or experience of what is true of each individual included under or 
within it. We do not obtain our knowledge of any whole, by an enumeration and summation 
of what is true of each of its parts, but by the process of induction, through which we gather 
or are led to believe that what is true in a limited observation of a few individuals, is true of 
the whole class. 

But let this be granted, and it follows that the Syllogism and the deductive 
The Syllogism process rests upon, and is but another name for, induction. This view of the 
with induction! 1 Syllogism is taken and earnestly defended by J. S. Mill. But this involves the 

conclusion that the deductive process is a mere matter of form, and that demon- 
stration and argument are superfluous ; that processes for proof are matters of convenience or 
of form, and that the Syllogism is useful only as an exercise for ingenuity or a discipline to dex- 
terity in analysis and acumen. It is obvious that if induction gives the major premise in the 
form of an assertion of a whole class, as that all lawful rulers ought to be obeyed, then it is 
mere triflin"- to add that M is of this class in order to prove that he ought to be obeyed. For 
as soon as we recognize that he belongs to this class, we must know at once that he ought to 
be obeyed without the form or process of proof. 

This last does not follow of necessity, as we shall show in its place (§ 463), for we might 
know these truths or facts without having our attention called to the relation which subsists 
between them. To direct the attention to this unnoticed and unthought-of relation, 
might be the simple and sole object of the deductive process, and the importance and 
difficulty of doing this might be quite sufficient to explain the necessity of deduction as a 
separate process. 



§445. KEASONING. DEDUCTION OR MEDIATE JUDGMENT. 44 r J 

The real error or defect consists in making the essence or import of both 

Class relations induction and deduction to consist in classification and the apprehension of 
do not explain , , . T _ . , ,. . , . . ' . , * , . , 

either process. class relations, u induction consists only or chiefly in establishing general 

facts by extended observation, then deduction must by consequence signify 
the recognition of what must already have been known in the formation of the class. If 
induction is a synthesis of individuals into a comprehensive whole, then deduction must be an 
analysis of this whole into its parts. If the synthesis has been carefully made, then the 
analysis is unnecessary because it is superfluous. According to this view of the two processes 
deduction is only subsidiary to induction, and when we seem to perform the process of 
demonstration or proof, it is the inductive and not the deductive element which gives it any 
value or force. 

To the objection that deduction involves a petitio principii and is there- 
Whately's doc- fore superfluous and without meaning or force, Whately, (Logic, B. IV., Ch. 
Syllogism. 2, § 1,) replies by admitting that the conclusion is virtually contained or 

implied in the premises ; but ' it does not follow that the deductive process is 
therefore superfluous, inasmuch as it may be necessary to develop or draw out that which is 
already implied or folded up in the premises.' This reply is to the point, and contains an im- 
portant truth. But this truth is not consistent with that superficial view of induction which 
makes it to consist of the synthesis of many individuals into a class. It is not easy to see how 
any fact or truth can be implied or virtually contained, or how it can be folded and hidden, in 
any proposition concerning a class that is thus constituted, or how there can be any thing to 
develop or draw out from it, which was not already known. 

§ 445. The relation which is characteristic of the deductive 
reason to conse- process is that of a reason to its consequent, or of a ground 

to its inference. It is by means of this relation that we 
know objects in this mode or form of knowledge. This relation is sug- 
gested to the mind in many cases of reasoning, — always in the syllogism — 
by the relation of a whole to a part, or of a general to a particular, but it is 
not therefore resolvable into this relation, nor should it be confounded 
with it. When we say, all magnets attract iron / this is a magnet / 
therefore it attracts iron : the word all suggests or indicates that there is 
some reason founded on the nature or properties of the magnet, which 
forces us to believe that this particular magnet will do the same. The 
relation of whole to apart is stated as a fact, but the fact indicates a rea- 
son, and it is upon this last relation that the necessity and the convincing 
force of the deduction always turns. This relation finds expression in lan- 
guage by because in the enthymeme, and by therefore in the syllogism. Be- 
cause signifies by cause of. Therefore means for, i. e., on account of that, viz., 
that which had been previously stated in the premises ; there being equiv- 
alent to the foregoing. Both words signify by reason of. 

The relation of reason to its consequent or conclusion is primarily a relation 

Is a relation of f concepts to concepts, by which we are forced to connect one with another 

concepts to con- . . , , , . . m , . , . „ 

copts. in rational dependence or combination. This relation of concepts to concepts 

depends on the actual relation of cause and effect between objects or things. 

We are able to give reasons and to support our knowledge by reasons because we believe the 

various objects and phenomena of the universe exist, and are produced in dependence upon 

29 



450 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §446. 

one another. In cases of reasoning when actually existing things are not concerned, with theii 
causes and laws, it will be found that their relations, whether mathematical or logical, are treated 
or regarded as causal agents, constituting elements or operative laws, and as in this way involv- 
ing necessitated mathematical or logical relations. (§§ 449, 450.) 

8 446. In other words, and in order to explain the thought- 
Depends on the " 7 A . ' i 
relation of causes relation of reason to consequent or conclusion, and the pro- 

andlaws. . .. . .. . ...... 

cess oi reasoning .in which that relation is involved; we 
must assume that every thing that exists and takes place, whether in the 
material or spirit world, exists under the real relation of causation or con- 
stituting elements and laws. Every phenomenon and every thought-crea- 
tion in the universe exists by the working of powers with which finite 
agents are endowed in obedience to fixed conditions and laws, in order to 
accomplish rational ends or results. Every such existence is an effect ; 
material things, spiritual agents, nay, even mathematical and logical con- 
cepts. The nature and the constitution of these effects are all explained 
by the causes, conditions, and ends, by, under, and for which, they are 
conceived to exist and to act. All these elements, when applied to ex- 
plain their existence, or to resolve or confirm our knowledge when we 
seek explanation or proof, are called reasons. When such a reason is 
discovered to explain or account for a fact or phenomenon, the process is 
called induction. When it is applied to give or confirm knowledge con- 
cerning a fact or truth in respect to which the mind seeks to be informed or 
convinced the process is called deduction. To know by either or both 
of these processes is to know by reasons, i e., it is to reason, ratiocinari ; 
it is reasoning, ratiocinatio. 

But how does a cause, law or end, become a reason ? In what way is it that 

How does this the mind finds in the necessary or constant connection which exists between 
relation become , . , . . ., ,,./.,.,.'.-., 

a Reason. things, a means to that necessitated knowledge or belief which is gained by 

reasoning ? We answer, reasoning itself, and deduction pre-eminently, is but 
the recognition of this relation as a means to gain or substantiate knowledge. For proof of 
this we appeal to the process of reasoning itself. In doing so, we should not employ any 
of those trivial examples which occur in most books of logic, but rather select some example 
of the process of deduction when it is of actual use, i. e., when it is employed to relieve the 
mind from doubt, or to answer its questions as to what is true. We should take a case of knowl- 
edge actually gained or of doubts relieved by a process of argument. In every such case we 
shall find that the mind has no direct access to the object before it, but only one that is 
indirect. The knowledge is not immediate and intuitive, and cannot be. It is only the cause, the 
effect or the law, the end or the means, — one side or term, — to which the mind has any means 
of access. But it knows or may know that under the law of causation this is necessarily con- 
nected with the other term. The use of this knowledge for the relief of doubt in the confirma- 
tion or the acquisition of faith, is reasoning. When the relation of causation is applied by the 
mind to this use it constitutes the relation of reason and its consequent. The necessary connec- 
tion pertaining to causation when thus applied gives convincing force to deduction. It is this 
discerned necessary connection between a cause and its effect, means and end, etc. etc., which 
is what we call the force of demonstration or deduction. 



§447. 



REASONING.— DEDUCTION OR MEDIATE JUDGMENT. 451 



This is another but not unimportant confirmation of the principle essential to all sound philosophy, 
.hat the relations of thought are but reflexes of the actual relations of things, and that every logical process 
pre-Bupposes some faith or knowledge in real existence and real truth. The modern tendency has been 
to resolve the forms of things into forms of thought. It is essential to bear in mind that all forms of 
thought are but the reflexes of forms of things ; that if we do not begin with fundamental assumptions 01 
beliefs concerning things, we cannot explain even the logical or thought-processes on which speculation rests. 
That the deductive process and the syllogism are founded on the relation of causalitj 
f A •• was disti^tty taught by Aristotle. He remarks, Anal. post. II. 2 : to p.ev yap airiov t! 
w0tle> " fiicrov, which means in this connection, the middle term is causal in its significance 

The entire passage is thus translated by "Waitz : ' quum omnis qusestio jam in eo verse- 
tur, ut rei subjectse naturam sive causam per quam res ipsa existat, vel ob quam aliud 
quid de ea prsedicatur, exploremus, quam quidem causam terminus medius exprimere debet.' Ax. Or. To the 
like effect is the passage, Anal. post. II. 12, to yap p.4<rov oj.ti.ov. Aristotle distinguishes between the cause of 
being and. the cause of knowing, translated ratio essendi and ratio cognoscendi, i. e., as we have explained, be- 
tween the cause and the reason, but he does not show how the one is related to the other. It has been con- 
tended by many modern logicians, for this reason and others, that in the passages cited he may have used 
cause only in the sense of reason, and that he ascribed to the middle term causal efficiency only as meaning 
' causal of the conclusion ; ' in other words, as the ratio cognoscendi in the logical as distinguished from the 
real sense. The illustrations which he employs prove the contrary, for they are all taken from real causes 
or agents. Besides, he distinguishes the causes which the middle term denotes as those which involve the 
absolute necessity of the effect, from those which secure it for the most part, w? eirl to ttoAv. 

The later Greek logicians being more occupied with the forms of the syllogism and its 
application to the detection of fallacies than with its speculative foundation or its 
The _ scholastic philosophical import, left very much out of view this important hint of their great mas- 
ter. The scholastics committed the double error of believing that the syllogism was tho 
sole instrument of acquiring new knowledge, or of discovery properly so-called, to the 
neglect of induction, and of supposing that the formal relations of the syllogism constituted and measured 
all the relations of things. Hence it was so generally received in the Continental schools ; that the 
principles of identity, of contradiction, and the excluded middle — the so-called laws of thought — were the 
only criteria of real truth and actual knowledge, and that the process of reasoning itself could be explained 
by these axioms. It would be easy to show how the schools of Spinoza, Schelling, and Hegel were formed 
if not founded upon this assumption. 

Leibnitz is a distinguished and notable exception to this nearly uniform course of specu- 
lation. He asserts that, for the purposes of philosophy, besides the principle of contra- 
ception an GX ~ Action another is required, viz., the principle of the sufficient reason. This is necessary, 
as he asserts in one place, "in order that a thing should exist, an event should happen 
or take place, and that a truth should be received." "Pour qu'une chose existe, qu'un 
evenement arrive, qu'une vdrite ait lieu." Lettres entre Leibnitz et Clarke, iv. § 125. Cf. Arist. Met. v. 1. 
§9 ; also Leibnitz, De Scien. Vhiver., Theod. Part i. §44. Monad. {Princip. Phil.) § 32. But the principle 
of the sufficient reason of Leibnitz is explained and applied by himself without discrimination to the causes 
of actually existing phenomena and the reasons of demonstrated truth. That is, the ratio essendi is not dis- 
tinguished from the ratio cognoscendi, and of course there is no attempt to show the relation of the one to 
the other. It is not surprising that a principle so imperfectly enounced did not take a permanent place 
in the schools of philosophy. Even "Wolf himself, Leibnitz's professed disciple and expounder (Ontol. 
§ 70 sqq. ; Met. § 30 sqq.), attempts to resolve the law of causation and the sufficient reason into the law of 
contradiction. The tendency of modern philosophy has been to consider the law of the sufficient reason as 
extra-logical (Hamilton, Dis. p. 603), or to derive it in both forms of real and logical-cause, from the relations 
of concepts to concepts, instead of founding the ratio cognoscendi on the ratio essendi, i. e., on the relations 
of things ; thereby inverting the processes of nature and destroying confidence in the grounds of knowledge 
and of faith. 

The reason oi § 44 ^* r ^^ ie conception of the logical reason is wider in its 
ground wider ran^e and application than that of the real canse on which 

than cause or ° L L 

law - it is founded. The real cause is always prior to the effect 

which it produces. The mind in apprehending or observing its actual 
workings, assumes or supposes the cause, in order to observe or believe 
in the actual effect. But in applying this relation for the purposes of 
reasoning, the mind may begin with the effect and conclude to a cause, as 
properly as when it begins with the cause and reasons to an effect. Either 



452 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 449 

involves the other in a connection of thought ; either can be made to imply 
the other in the order of deduction or reasoning. 

The reason and the cause coincide, when from an actual cause, (the conditions and laws 
being included or supposed,) we reason to the certainty or reality of the effect. Thus the fire 
did or will fall into a vessel of gunpowder, therefore an explosion did or will occur. They 
diverge, when we reason from the effect to the cause, or when the effect is made the reason for 
our belief or knowledge of the cause : as the vessel of gunpowder exploded, therefore heat in 
some form was present. The known effect is in this case the reason for the believed or proved 
conclusion. 

In a similar way we reason both forwards and backwards from the means to the end and 
from the end to the means, making either the end or the means the reason, and the means or 
the end the conclusion. 

So in moral action we reason from the motives forward to the act or purpose, and back- 
ward from the act or purpose to the impelling motives, making either the reason for believing 
the other, with such reservation as the nature of their mutual activity requires. 

§ 448. The distinction should also be noticed between causes 
Relation of j e powers and laws. Laws designate those permanent 

causes to law. A or 

circumstances or relations which, though not separate agents 
themselves, modify the production of the effect, so that with or with- 
out these, the effect does or does not actually occur, or the energy of the 
effect varies as these circumstances vary. The best example of a law as 
distinguished from a cause or agent, is the law of gravitation— According 
to which the force varies inversely as the square of the distance. For 
the purposes of reasoning, however, the law may be viewed as a new or 
varying cause ; i. e., the power in question, e. g. gravitation, is known or 
manifested as a cause which we can apply in deduction, so far as or 
when it obeys certain laws. 

In order that this may be intelligible, we observe that the various conditions on which an 
effect depends, may, when philosophically viewed, be regarded as its causes. Thus to the 
effect combustion, heat or a burning substance and the fuel are both requisites. The heat, as 
being able to kindle or inflame, is one active agent. The capacity of the substance to be 
inflamed, is another agency. Nothing in- the universe is entirely passive, but that which is 
eminently active, is called the cause par eminence, while that whose efficiency is less conspi- 
cuous is called the condition. Their joint product is the effect. 

§ 449. When we employ reasons to prove geometrical truth, 
G >as me 8 trical we P rocee< ^ * n a similar method, and the grounds of our 

procedure and the consequent belief, are found in the 
nature of the product regarded as dependent on certain efficient or con- 
stituting elements which are viewed by the mind as necessitating certain 
products or effects in a way similar to that in which an agent, whether 
material or spiritual, brings to pass its results. The triangle, square, cube 
and sphere are regarded as possessed of certain properties, which, in their 
nature, when subjected to certain changes, or brought into certain com- 
binations, make the real existence of certain other properties necessary, 
and therefore evident to the mind. The ratio essendt, or the conceived 



§450. REASONING. — DEDUCTION OR MEDIATE JUDGMENT. 453 

properties of the geometrical figures in space as constructed in the mind, 
oecomes the ratio cognoscendi. The nature of space, or of bodies exist- 
ing in space, is the actual reason that the mind accepts the conclusion. 
The geometrical construction has a quasi causal efficiency, the effect or 
consequence of which cannot be set aside ; or the construction may be 
viewed as a joint effect of the mind's activity, upon or within the supposed 
conditions, as determined by the mind's intuition of space. 

Thus: two triangles are similar, i. c., their sides and corresponding angles are equal, 
because they are the halves made by the diagonal of a parallelogram. The reason is found in 
the previously constructed properties of the parallelogram. But these properties are deter- 
mined by the constructive acts of the mind, space being assumed as allowing the mind to 
conceive or construct certain figures. The figures being constructed are divided, i. e. y new 
figures are constructed — they are compared with each other — they are superimposed upon one 
another — in short, there is a series of consecutive acts passing into effects, the acts deter- 
mining the effects and the effects being determined or defined by the mind's acts and the 
material, viz., space, with which it works. We reason from the act, i. e., the cause to the 
effect, or from the effect back to the act, precisely as when the cause and effect are material. 
There is no difference in the ground of the certainty when the product is mental. The relation 
of the cause and the reason is in both cases the same. The reason rests upon the known 
capacity of the mind to construct such an effect, viz., a triangle or square, by precisely the same 
genetic or productive acts, under fixed spatial conditions. 

What we call the nature or properties of the triangle or square are accounted for by the 
mind's power to produce them, and the concurring aid of space as a condition or coagent to the 
effect. 

§ 450. The same is true, when we reason from the essential 
immediate Syi- constituents of a logical concept ; or construct what some 

logisms. ^ /- • 

logicians call immediate syllogisms. 

These scarcely deserve to be called reasoning proper, as the process is merely formal. But 
if they are to be so regarded, then the parts and the whole, from which in such cases we reason 
to one another have been previously fixed by the thinking power, or the power to generalize 
at all. That is, these are products of the mind's creative energy which are referred in the 
final explanation to the mind's own acting conformably to the relations or forms of thought, 
which are assumed as conformed to the relations of things ; these relations being regarded as 
fixed or permanent forces to all like constructions, just as space and number give law to all the 
objects to which they pertain. These logical products as wholes and parts, positives, and nega- 
tives, etc., are regarded as causal of certain results to any object brought into certain rela- 
tions with them. They are reasoned of, as though they were actually existing beings with 
causal properties ooeying unchanging laws. The parts make up the whole and the whole is 
divisible into parts, because the mind unites these as parts and makes of them a whole, and 
being so united they must hold true to the nature, i. e., the effect or product which the mind 
has made by its creative activity. We say, some islands are surrounded by water, because it 
is the nature of the island to be surrounded by water, i. e., because all islands are surrounded 
by water. Duty can only be performed by a moral being, because it is of the essence 
of duty to be performed by such a being. In all such cases we reason from what the mind 
has produced to what is necessarily involved by what are called the relations of content and 
extent. These relations we give to every concept which we construct. 

These positions will be illustrated more fully in treating of the varieties of deduction. 



454 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §452 

CHAPTER VII. 

SEASONING. — VAEIETIES OF DEDUCTION. 

Fkom the analysis of the Deductive Process in general, we proceed to a special consideration 
of the several varieties of deductive reasoning. These are determined by the differences 
in the subject-matter upon or about which the process of deduction is employed, so far 
as this subject-matter occasions a difference in the character of the reasons upon which 
the reasoning depends. Material forces and reasons differ from the psychological and moral. 
Both these are unlike the mathematical. Those which are purely logical differ from all the 
others. The process, however, is common to all these objects so far as it is deductive, but 
the subject-matter is in each case so peculiar in respect to the sources from which it is 
derived, the evidence on which its reality rests, and the method by which the mind gains 
and uses the knowledge involved, as to occasion a marked difference in what is usually 
esteemed and called the process of deduction. 

8 451. The varieties of deductive reasoning usually recognized 

The varieties are . _ , _ " , 

three ; these are the Probable, the Mathematical, and the Formal. 

Probable reasoning again is subdivided into three, the 
physical, the psychological, and the historical, according as the subject-matter 
is physical beings and phenomena, spiritual agents and their manifestations, 
or those combinations of the two which make up human history. It is 
often called applied reasoning, because its materials are facts known by 
observation and induction, and to the materials thus acquired or furnished, 
its processes are applied. 

Mathematical reasoning is threefold, according as it is concerned with 
continued or discrete quantity, or as it combines the methods appropriate 
to each. It is Geometrical, Arithmetical and Analytical 

Formal reasoning concerns itself with pure concepts abstracted from all 
beings and phenomena, and with the relations which such concepts involve. 
It is sometimes technically styled simply logical deduction, and its 
arguments are called immediate or purely logical syllogisms. 

§ 452. In probable or applied deduction, we may for the pres- 
to™ defined! son " ent assume that the premises are furnished by induction and 
observation. In respect to induction, it is for the present 
sufficient that we affirm that by it we attain the knowledge of general 
powers, properties or agencies, in the spheres of matter and of spirit. It 
is in the same way that we reach what are called the laws of nature, viz., 
those universal conditions of the action of these agents which can be ex- 
pressed in fixed propositions, and can be regarded as rules or regulators 
of the occurrence or non-occurrence of their effects or phenomena. Both must 
be considered, whenever an event is subjected to a process of reasoning. 
But power and law in their relations to deduction may be considered as 
the same, so far as each is a reason for the conclusion. In applied reason- 
ing as defined, induction is always necessary to furnish major premises, 
because there can be no reasons, if there are no general or universal pow- 
ers or laws. 



§452. SEASONING. — VARIETIES OF DEDUCTION. 455 

For minor premises in these cases, observation often suffices, because it often furnisher 
ndividual facts or events. When these minor premises affirm any thing of a class of general 
ized objects, induction may be required as well as observation. 

This description of reasoning is called Probable, sometimes Problematical and 
The epithet ex- Moral, simply because the subject-matter depends on causes which are con- 
qualified, tingent, and is not necessarily true. Its reality cannot be proved by demon- 
strative evidence. As such it is contrasted with the mathematical and formal, 
the subject-matter of which is in no sense a real being or event, and is dependent on no con- 
tingency for its existence or occurrence, but on the properties or relations of mathematical and 
logical concepts. As soon as the premises are constructed by the mind they need no evidence 
from experience. They are obviously and intuitively true. The terms probable, etc., do not, 
however, imply that the processes involved are less valid or convincing, or that the premises 
or conclusions are less trustworthy. 

But whether the reasoning process, as such, relates to facts 
Suse^and laws? °f matter, to facts of spirit, or to facts of history, it rests 

upon reasons in the way already explained. The facts are 
reasoned out whenever the power or law with its conditions is employed 
to prove that they must have occurred, inasmuch as the causes exist 
which require them ; or whenever facts or events known to exist are ex- 
plained by being referred to such agencies or laws. 

Thus, the suspended weight let loose, it is reasoned, must fall, because the 

In the sphere of force of gravitation is always in action ; or the reason why it fell, or why it 

ought to be believed that it fell, is that this power was acting at the time. 

The marble is decomposed by sulphuric acid because the lime has a stronger 

affinity for it than for carbonic acid. The decomposition of these elements attended by offer- 

vescence is explained by the operation of the stronger force over the weaker. 

In the sphere of spirit, / reason that at the thought of Hannibal I shall always 
In the sphere of think of Fabius, because the two, by association, have become permanently fixed 
ep in my thoughts. By a reference to the operation of this power under its 

laws, I explain the fact, that I thought of Fabius a moment previous. In a 
similar way I predict or explain a particular purpose or course of conduct on the part of an 
individual by referring to the reasons which are to be found in the joint actions of certain 
motives and a supposed disposition or kind of character, both these being regarded as agencies 
of spirit, or as conditions of its action which are regulated by fixed laws. 

The student and interpreter of history reasons concerning events of the 
past when he seeks to explain them by their appropriate causes and laws, 
or to forecast the future by means of the great forces or agencies, — the so- 
called principles — through which the course of events and the results of 
important movements in society can be interpreted. 

When an advocate reasons for or against the actual occurrence of a certain 
In the legal event, by a reference to known principles of human action, or the testimony 
argument. Q £ ^g^bie -witnesses, or when he reasons for or against the truthfulness of a 

witness, or when, an event having occurred, as a theft or a homicide, he 
reasons out a theory to explain the event, and reasons against a counter theory, he refers to 
certain agencies and laws in the world of matter or in the world of spirit, and often in both, 
as reasons adequate to account for the phenomena. 

Deduction is more satisfactory and convincing when applied to material thaD 

Why more satis- when applied to spiritual phenomena, because the agencies known in the one 

factory in matter , , , , , , 

Shan in spirit. sphere are more numerous than in the other, and because the laws according 

to which these agencies produce their results are capable of being expressed 



456 THE HUMAN - INTELLECT. §453. 

in mathematical formulae. Hence, in many of the physical sciences we apply the rigor, the 
certainty and the variety of geometrical deduction, as in Mechanics, Optics, Navigation, Theo- 
retical Astronomy and Chemical Analysis. 

This introduces into the sphere of pure deduction a second element, viz. the mathematical, 
which is combined with that which is contingent or problematical, in many of the physical 
sciences, but which in the pure or abstract mathematics, gives character to what is called by 
eminence mathematical reasoning. 

§ 453. The objects or entities with which mathematical rea- 
reasoSSg. lca soning is concerned, are constructed by the mind itself on 

the suggestion of, and of course with reference to, certain 
material things and occurring acts, which are related to one another in 
space and time. Hence these entities themselves have certain definite 
relations to space and time, which are called their properties. 

We need not here consider all the questions which may be raised in respect to the nature 
of these objects or the processes by which they are formed. We are concerned with those 
only which are involved in and give character to mathematical deduction, and which must be 
understood to explain this process. 

We assume the reality (in some sort) of Space and Time. We 

The entities or t ■* 

beings to which assume also that we can construct and represent to our 
minds, the various thought-objects with which the sciences 
of magnitude and number are concerned. We certainly find ourselves, at 
a certain stage of intellectual development, possessed of the concepts 
which are employed in geometry, general arithmetic, and algebra — as the 
Point, the Line, the Superficies, the Triangle, the Square, the Circle, the 
Cube, the Sphere, the Cone, etc., as also the Unit, the Sum, the Difference, 
the Multiple, the Divisor and the Ratio. 

These are properly called concepts or general notions. Like 
ai^concepJs*!* 168 other concepts their constituents are aflirmable of the indi- 
vidual objects to which they relate ; they have no separately 
real, but only a relative and therefore a mental existence. The individual 
objects of which these concepts are aflirmable are, as it would seem at first, 
individual objects of sense or spirit ; as when we affirm a line, or point, or 
superficies to belong to a block of ivory. On second thought, we are sure 
that the mathematical point, line, or surface, cannot belong to any mate- 
rial object as such, for the reason that there are no perfectly even or sharp 
edges or even planes in any material object. Nor are there in nature any 
perfect units, exactly the counterparts of one another. The mind must 
construct or imagine such entities for itself, having indeed some, and 
those easily recognizable, relations to the material originals. 

These individual entities are then generalized, and become concepts ; having a content and 
extent, and being capable of definition, division, and classification. The individual and the 
general are however scarcely distinguished by the mind itself. The individual differences are so 
inconsiderable and for the purposes of mathematical science so unimportant, that they do not 
come into notice. The attributes and relations which they have in common and which con. 



§454. REASONING. — VARIETIES OF DEDUCTION. 457 

stitute their import, are entirely prominent and exclusive of the others. Indeed, in tht 
mathematical processes the mind passes so quickly from the individual to the general and 
returns again so suddenly to the individual as not to observe for the moment with which it hag 
to do when considering the nature and relations of the line or triangle which is before it ; 
whether what it observes or thinks of, is this triangle as an individual, or as the representa- 
tive of all triangles conceivable. 

It is another marked and distinctive peculiarity of these relations, that they are 
Their properties clearly and entirely distinguishable from all other generalized properties. It 
spiritual. is impossible that the length, breadth etc. of any material object should be 

confounded with its sensible qualities, or that the distinctions of number 
should be mistaken for those properties of matter or spirit of which sense or consciousness 
takes cognizance. Not only are they clearly separated as a class, but each one of the class is 
sharply separable from every other. The line cannot possibly be confounded with the surface 
nor the sum with the difference. Then again the number of the more general of these rela- 
tions is so limited as to be entirely within the reach of the imagination and the memory. The 
mind is entirely certain that no one required has been overlooked. The eye can easily sweep 
over the entire field of viewUtt a single glance. 

8 454. Again ; these concepts, like all others, can, as has 

Can be expand 5 s °. J ' ,. ._ r . ' ' ' 

ed in proposi- been explained, be expanded into propositions of content and 

tions of content. .. _ -i-ir... ■, . -, 

extent. Ine propositions of content are the definitions which 
state the attributes which constitute the essence of each of the complex 
concepts which we form by mathematical construction, as of the square, 
the triangle, the cube, etc., etc. The best and most satisfactory definitions 
are those which bring directly before the mind the act or process by which 
they are supposed to be constructed. Thus, a line is defined as a point 
moved in space, a point is produced by the intersection or termination of 
one line by another, a superficies results from a line in motion, a solid 
from a moving superficies, a sphere from a circle revolved about its diam- 
eter, a cone from the revolution of a right-angled triangle about its per- 
pendicular. Definitions of this kind also may serve to connect one 
construction with another, and thus enable us to carry forward the prop- 
erties of one — a lower — into those of another — a higher. 

We recognize these definitions to be appropriate and true, 
Slate? 0118 P ° S " because we know that we ourselves perform the processes 

and achieve the results which the definitions describe. Such 
definitions we sometimes phrase in the language of command, as, draw 
me a line, move a plane, etc. For this reason they are called postulates, pos- 
tulata, i. e., concepts which may be required and assumed without dissent. 

The definitions of the concepts of number scarcely need to be given. We assume at once 
that all men know what they signify. When an explanation of them is required we refer 
directly to the processes of numbering, as adding and diminishing ; either by variable or 
constant rates, etc., etc. 

The peculiarities of mathematical definitions as distinguished from all others, arise from 
die circumstance that they exhaust the entire import or essence of the concept. We are 
certain that the definitions of a triangle and square are exhaustive. Such concepts are in theii 
very nature transparent, we can see through them as through crystal water to the bottom of a 



458 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §455 

mountain lake. We know that the properties enumerated perfectly distinguish this concept 
from every other. The definition does not indeed express all that is true of the concept as 
related to every other in every conceivable combination, (else reasoning or analysis could not 
add to our knowledge,) but it gives all that is essential to enable the mind to distinguish it 
from every other, i. e., to know with entire satisfaction, and adequately to define what the 
concept is with which it has to do. 

Mathematical § ^ 55, ^ e P ro P°sitions of extent are such as these : Triangles 
gjpositions of are plane and spherical ; and each of these are acute, obtuse, 
or right-angled : and for the same reason that mathematical 
definitions are exhaustive, mathematical divisions are known to be com- 
plete. All divisions of extent grow out of the definitions of content. 
Inasmuch, then, as these last are exhaustive, on account of the limited 
number of the elements involved, it follows, that all possible subdivisions 
which depend upon such elements, can be easily compassed and confi- 
dently enumerated by the mind. 

Hamilton pertinently observes : " Mathematical, like all other reason- 
ing, is syllogistic ; but here, the perspicuous necessity of the matter necessi- 
tates the correctness of the form ; we cannot reason wrong." — Works of 
Beid, p. V01, n. 

§ 456. Besides the definitions, there is another class of prop- 

kmd™ s ° f tw ° ositions called axioms. These differ from definitions in this, 

that they state the necessary relations that are involved in the 

nature or application of all the concepts of quantity as such, whereas each one 

of the definitions states either the content or extent of some special concept. 

Examples of axioms : such propositions as the following, * the whole is 
greater than its part,'' i. e., it is involved in the construction of the concept 
the whole, that it should bear this relation to another concept called its 
part. The one requires its correlate ; involving the relations of greater and 
less. We construct and therefore conceive the whole by the addition of 
parts ; we construct parts by the division of a whole. 

Again, 'if to or from equal quantities we add or take equals, the sums 
or remainders are equal.' This is also seen at once to be true, and to be 
involved in the very nature of equality. 

Axioms of this first class are equally applicable to arithmetical and geometri- 

How far applica- ca i quantity. They affirm the relations which the mind must evolve and dis- 

ble to Arithmetic ^ . . ., ,,-.„, 

and Geometry. cern whenever it measures one such quantity by another. It is of the nature of 

any quantity to be measurable ; it can be known as equal, greater or less, when 
compared with another quantity. More exactly we say in the concrete ; separate objects hav- 
ing relations to either space or time or to both, can measure one another. Equality, greater-ness 
and less-ness, are discerned in and evolved from these acts of comparison. The axioms concern- 
ing the equal, the greater and the less, state in general language and in special applications 
what the mind necessarily believes in every particular case. They do not enable the mind to 
apply a predicate to the individual because it has affirmed it of the general, but they affirm in gen- 
eral what the mind is ready to assent to in every special instance. Cf. Kant, Kritih. p. 143, 
ed. Ros., p. 176, ed. Hart., and Proleg. § 2. Kant contends, that though they are propositions 



§456. REASONING. — VARIETIES OF DEDUCTION. 459 

tl priori, they are not axioms at all. Mansel, in his Proleg. Log, chap, iv., contends that the} 

are analytic ; i. e. when we say the whole is greater than a part, we simply express in distinct 

language what is implied in the concept, the whole. 

Axioms of this character are sometimes called analytic propositions as con- 

Analytic and trasted with synthetic, because, as it is contended, they evolve or explicate in 
synthetic ax- J ' ' ' J 1 

lome. the predicate what is impliedly known or assumed in the subject. 

There is another class of axioms, such as these : Two straight lines cannot 
inclose a space : Two or more parallel lines, if produced ever so far in either direction, can 
never meet. These axioms apply to geometrical quantity only. These are clearly synthetical 
propositions. Whatever may be true of those of the other class ; in those of this the predicate 
contains new matter which the subject does not imply. And yet these propositions are self- 
evident and intuitively true. They cannot and need not be demonstrated. Their truth is as 
obvious to the mind as is the possibility of constructing the original concepts involved, or the 
propriety of accepting certain postulates. In all these cases the mind discerns the necessary 
relations of objects to space. 

Tatham, in The Chart and Scale of Truth, chap. i. sec. ii., asserts that axioms are self-evident, hnt not 
intuitive, because, as he contends, if they were intuitive, they would " flash direct conviction on the mind, 
as external objects do on the senses, of all men." 

The nature and grounds of the evidence for the truth of 
definitions self- mathematical definitions and axioms need not here be dis- 
cussed at length : all concede that we give to both an unhesi- 
tating and uniform assent, as necessarily and universally true. Whatever 
theory is adopted in respect to the method by which we obtain this knowl- 
edge, or the evidence on which we ground it, there is no question at all 
in respect to the clearness and confidence of our convictions. Even those 
who contend that we accept them on grounds of the uniform experience 
of their truth, — whether reached by inseparable and ineradicable associa- 
tions, or through the process of induction, — still regard these axioms as 
unquestionably true. Those who hold that the mind believes in their 
truth because it confides in the known results of its own productive activity 
under the known and permanent conditions of space and time, have no 
stronger conviction of their uniform and necessary truth. 

The question has been earnestly agitated whether the axioms or the defini • 
? A • i ^ doms °f ti° ns are tne foundations of geometrical reasoning. It has been very gener- 
tain deduction 1 ally held that the axioms are the real principia upon which such reasoning 

depends : that is, that they are the unproved but assumed major premises 
of which, with certain minor premises furnished by the definitions, all the syllogisms are con- 
structed, that make up the demonstrations of geometry. 

It is obvious that the only kind of axioms which can be considered in this discussion, is the first class 
which we have cited, the so-called analytic axioms. Those of the second class, all would concede, are aa 
truly principles as are the definitions ; as capable as they to serve as major premises for syllogisms. They 
are indeed more truly synthetic than the definitions themselves. 

The method after which these demonstrations are conducted by Euclid, has lent a decided 
support to this view. In all these demonstrations, these axioms are constantly cited aa 
major premises for the truth of the conclusions which are derived from them. His arguments 
are in substance as follows : All things that are equal to the same thing, are equal to one 
another. The case of the equality of the two lines or angles to a third is a case of the kind 
Therefore, this is a case of their being equal to one another. 



460 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §457. 

Against this doctrine, Locke, Essay, B. iv. c. vii. § 10, protests with great earnestness and force, that 
we do not assent to the general proposition any more readily than we do to the particular conclusion which 
it was designed to prove, and that the axiom, as a general truth, therefore does not serve as the ground ol 
our belief. The only use which such axioms serve is, in controversy ; to silence wranglers, by showing them 
that they not only believe the particular which is in dispute, but vastly more, i. e., the general which in- 
cludes it. 

Peid, Essays on the Intel. Powers, Essay vi. chaps, v. and vii., holds a different opinion, when he asserts 
the importance of First Truths or First Principles as the necessary foundations of all our knowledge, and 
instances the indispensableness of axioms as premises in geometrical reasoning. But when he comes to ex- 
plain himself, he concedes the justice of the most of Locke's observations. 

Principal Campbell, in his Philosophy of Rhetoric (B. i. c. v. § 1), takes the same view as Reid. 

Dugald Stewart, Elements, Part ii. subd. i. c. i. sec. i. 1 and 2, agrees with Locke, and contends that 
the definitions and not the axioms are the foundations or principles of geometrical reasoning. The axioms 
he does not consider useless, but calls them elements, though not principles. The definitions he com- 
pares to " the hook, or rather the beam," to which is attached a chain supporting a weight, while the axioms 
" may be compared to the successive concatenations which connect the different links immediately with 
one another." 

For our present purpose, it is of little consequence to determine whether the axioms or 
the definitions are or are not the principles of geometrical deduction. In the one case we 
begin our series of deductions with certain general truths that are more extensive than, and 
are prior to the subject-matter of geometry. In the other we find our first propositions in the 
definitions, or the further truths which the definitions introduce and make possible. 

The construction §457. It is more important to observe that what is called 
figurS^Siii- geometrical demonstration is very far from being a process 
ary lmes. of pure deduction. As preliminary to this and coincident with 

it at every step, there is carried forward a process of preparing the mate- 
rials concerning which we reason, so that they can be brought into compari- 
son. This is ordinarily termed the construction of the diagram or the 
drawing of auxiliary lines. In some cases these constructions are very 
easy and simple, in others they are difficult and complex. In all cases they 
task the power of invention, and of fertile suggestion. The mind must 
divine or anticipate, or have a presentiment of what it will prove and 
how it can prove it, as it proceeds with this preliminary construction. It 
must maintain a continued course of inventing and providing middle 
terms, so to speak. The preparation of the diagram for the demonstration 
of the 47th prop. 1st book, of Euclid's Geometry, is no inconsiderable 
achievement of inventive skill and sagacity. 

It ought to be observed, that in order to be certain of the possibility of drawing some of 
these lines, and of the character of the figures which will result from them, we cannot depend 
upon either the axioms or the definitions, nor on the results of previous reasoning processes, 
but we must rely solely upon our direct intuition of the properties and relations of the figures 
which our postulates enable us to draw, and which our definitions describe. We know, for 
example, by intuition only, that we can connect the opposite extremities of a square or 
reetangle, and that the diagonal thus drawn will divide the rectangle into two triangles with a 
common base. In constructing a rectangle, we must presuppose the space which we circum- 
scribe, and some of the consequent relations to it and to each other of its bounding lines. 
So soon as we divide this space, we add to this knowledge also, by direct inspection or intui- 
tion. The same is true whenever we add to or divide any construction, whether it be original 
or superinduced. 



§458. . REASONING. VARIETIES OF DEDUCTION. 461 

It should be noticed, that in all cases of complicated geometrical construction, the com. 
. pletion of the diagram is the result, to a large degree, of a tentative process. "We draw 

cesses often P re- a line » and tnen observe whether the new relations brought into existence by this con- 
quired, struction may serve as connecting links between the point laid down and its proof. The 

mind, by this process, builds a road, as it were, before itself, and thus goes on, step by 
step, to the otherwise inaccessible goal. The geometer may not at once see where the path must lie, and 
may make many vain attempts, before he can cross the space that separates him from his object. 

The Dew constructions which we form for each new theorem, furnish fresh 
New construe- ma terial for yet other processes of deduction, and thus enlarge the sphere, by 
new material. successive syntheses, of the objects to which our deductions can be applied. 

The new truths which these new constructions enable us to discover are intui- 
tively assented to in their conditions and their evidence. They are axiomatic, similar to the 
axioms of the second class which we have already considered. The number of such axiomatic 
truths made possible by the endless variety of geometrical constructions is well nigh unlimited. 
With every new construction, some new relation is evoked, and its truth is intuitively assented 
to. 

The necessity of constructing the diagram in order to elicit additional knowledge has 
Geometrical rea- led to a great variety of theories in respect to the nature of geometrical reasoning, 
into^ construe- Some » as Schleiermacher, Dialelctik, have resolved the whole of the process into the de- 
tion. vising of the requisite auxiliary lines, which being done, they assert that nothing more 

is necessary than to institute a succession of measurements or comparisons of equal 
quantities. These overlook the circumstance that the process of deduction is also employed whenever 
we use general truths as the grounds of particular conclusions. Because the constructive process is an es- 
sential, and oftentimes the most conspicuous element, they recognize no other. 

Others, like J. S. Mill and Sir John Herschel, contend that all mathematical truth is 
gained by successive processes of induction, as well the original axioms and definitions 
A.so into indue- as ^ e new truths which successive demonstrations enable us to discern. These think- 
ers confound the conditions of discerning a truth with the process by which it is gained, 
and the evidence on which it rests. Because the mind is forced to use individual exam- 
ples of real things in order to fix its attention upon what it can construct and think of, they conclude that 
the only possible way in which it can use them is to form inductions (which, by the way, are by J. S. Mill 
resolvable into inseparable associations). Mill, having resolved the deductive process into induction, could 
scarcely avoid the necessity of explaining mathematical reasoning by the same principle. The necessity of 
a continued resort to new constructions in order to make any advancement in such geometrical deductions, 
furnished him with a a plausible ground for this view. 

Dugald Stewart, Elements, Part ii. c. ii. sec. 3, 1, on the other hand contends, that 
mathematical reasoning is purely hypothetical. The definitions are the hypotheses 
hvnothe^icai 116 ^ which the mind assumes, and we deduce from these the legitimate conclusions. But he 
does not explain at all how the mind is enabled or induced to form such hypotheses, 
nor how it enlarges them by successive constructions, with the aid of auxiliary lines and 
diagrams. And yet, that the mind is somehow capable of forming a limited number of such hypotheti- 
cal constructions, all in some way growing out of and related to another, he constantly assumes. 

§ 458. In geometrical reasoning it is necessary that the sev- 
quantitiesmeas- eral quantities should be measured by or with one another. 

Indeed the diagrams are constructed, and the needful auxili- 
ary lines are drawn for this end, that the parts may be so prepared that 
one may be compared with another. As the triangle is the simplest figure 
that can be constructed, the original measurement to which, in the last 
analysis, all others are reduced, and by which they are tested, is that of two 
triangles. In Playfair's Geometry the first act of demonstration and that to 
which all the remaining attach themselves and are referred, is that of the 
fourth Prop, by which two triangles are superimposed on one another. The 
possibility of comparing two triangles being established, we have the 
means of comparing all those plane figures which can be resolved inta 



462 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §459. 

equal triangles. This may be considered another auxiliary step in geomet- 
rical demonstration. It is obvious however that this is not deduction 
proper. 

It should here be noticed that the fact that in geometrical reasoning we are 
Misapplication constantly establishing relations of equality, in other words are substituting 
° f thls fact- one quantity for another, has led to the belief that this was the aim and type 

of all reasoning whatever. Hence the effort to explain all the logical relations 
by those of mathematical equality and to resolve the judgment and the syllogism solely 
by relations of agreement or substitution. Because on account of its special subject-mat- 
ter geometrical deduction is the clearest and most rigorous, it was concluded that it furnished 
the type for all deduction whatever. Hence, equality, agreement, substitution or identity, 
have been so extensively employed to explain deduction. It was not considered that geomet- 
rical deduction is only a single species under the common genus, and that the explanation 
of a process common to the whole genus by relations appropriate to a single species, must 
of course be unphilosophical. 

Geometrical rea- § ^^' -^ remains for us to inquire how the process of de- 
soning explain- duction is applied to the elements and processes of geometri- 

ed by an exam- * -^ ( . . 

P le - cal demonstration which we have described. This will enable 

us to explain its nature. We can do this most satisfactorily by an ex- 
ample. 

In the fifth proposition of Euclid's geometry, B. I., it is proposed to prove that the angles 
at the base of an isosceles triangle are equal. The first step is to prepare the diagram by 
producing the two sides A B, and A C, indefinitely towards D and E. 

A In the lines thus drawn, the two points F and G are taken at equal 

distances from A, and B G and C F are joined. It is manifest ' to the eye,'' 
as we say, that we have twd pairs of triangles, A B G and A C F, B C G 
and C B F. The first two have the two corresponding sides equal — the 
one by construction, the other by the addition of equals to equals — as also 
the included angle common. By deduction from the conclusion of the 
fourth proposition, the bases C F and B G and the several angles are 
proved to be equal. These two conclusions give, in the two smaller tri- 
angles, one side of each equal ; by subtraction of the equals A B and A C 
from the equals A F and A G, the sides B F and C G are equal ; that 
their included angles are equal was proved as a conclusion from the syllogism founded on the 
fourth proposition. It follows by the same syllogism upon the same premises, that the angles 
B C F and G B C are equal. These equals are, then, taken from the equals A F and A B G, 
and the remainders are equal. These are the angles at the base of the isosceles triangle. 

It will be seen that the syllogisms employed are either five or two, according as we con- 
sider the axioms to be or not to be the foundations of geometrical deduction. There are three 
cases in which the axioms, if equals be added to or taken from equals, are employed in what, 
in form, appear to be syllogisms. In the other two the conclusion of the fourth proposition is 
made the major premise, and the conclusion is regularly deduced. In all, we have a general 
proposition for a major premise, a particular case for the minor, and the conclusion made up of 
the major and minor term. That is, there are in all these cases, formal syllogisms ; but there 
is this difference ; in the one case the axiom adds no force to the belief of the conclusion, 
because this would be equally clear to the mind without it ; in the other, we are referred to 
the nature of the concept or construction— as of. two triangles equal in two sides and the in- 
cluded angle— as necessarily involving equality in the remaining side of each. The reason 
for the conclusion is the properties of such triangles as constructed by the mind, by means 




§ 460. REASONING. — VARIETIES OF DEDUCTION. 463 

of the known properties of space. It would be a trivial fiction to say that it is of the nature 
of equality, that two things equal to the same thing are equal to one another ; but this must 
be said, if the axiom is a reason for the special applications of itself. 

But again : we demonstrate or deduce in this way by these two concatenated 
Generalization syllogisms, that the angles at the base of this particular isosceles triangle are 
in the process, equal to one another. But we see at once that it must follow that whatever 

is true of this or any isosceles triangle must be true of every one. Hence 
we generalize this conclusion directly, and make it ready to be used as the major premise of 
another syllogism. This is the last step in the process of a geometrical demonstration. It is 
not by induction proper, however, that we pass from the individual to the general, for the 
reason that the properties and relations of space which are used in an individual construction 
in space, do not like those of matter indicate one another with more or less probability, 
but each requires the other by an unavoidable necessity which is open to intuitive inspec- 
tion. 

It scarcely need be said, that there is in geometry much which is called deduction which is not such 
in fact. It is very easy, in this science, to arrange a series of propositions which shall conform to the rules 
of formal logic, when there is no force of real reasons. The same may he true in probable reasoning. It 
is not difficult to assert general truths which have no greater force than the particulars which appear to be 
dependent upon them. 

The processes of arithmetic and algebra are scarcely considered processes of deduction 
Deduction in a * a ^' no ^ ^ ecause deduction is not present and actually performed, but because it plays 
arithmetic and so inconsiderable a part in reaching the result. The chief concern of the mind in per- 
algebra. forming problems of this sort, is to invent such combinations and to apply such meth- 

ods of dealing with them, as will bring to pass the result— which is usually to state 
some new equation between elements that can be evolved from the data. The mind seeks to change the 
expression of the quantities given, so that they can be advantageously compared. The mind deduces only 
when it applies some rule or principle, or uses a formula previously determined to be true of all members 
or all objects similarly situated with the individual case. Both these processes are similar in principle to 
the expedient of devising auxiliary lines in geometry. The particular result is readily generalized. 

§ 460. The third species of reasoning is the formal or purely 
h?isin diate syl " ^ ca ^ sucn as * s employed in immediate syllogisms. Here 

the reason for the conclusion is found in some one of the 
necessary relations of the concept, whenever such a relation or property 
can be applied or viewed as a cause necessitating some new relation. In- 
asmuch as there are several such essential relations, a variety of such 
deductions is possible. Syllogisms of this sort are called by Kant 
syllogisms of the understanding, because the understanding is defined by 
Kant to be the logical faculty. The relations or forms of the understand- 
ing are the grounds or reasons for all such deductive conclusions. These 
conclusions are sometimes styled immediate, in contrast with those which 
are mediate, because they are built upon a single proposition, or more 
exactly because no middle term is present or provided in the ordinary 
acceptation of the word. The major premise is derived from an expansion 
in language of those relations which necessarily belong to the concept, 
and therefore may be expressed in propositions. These arguments are 
usually treated in books of logic under the title of the Conversion and 
Opposition of Propositions, and often are not treated as syllogisms 
at all. 



464 THE HUMAN" INTELLECT. §461, 

The following is an example, usually cited as of subaltern opposition : All 
islands were originally attached to a continent ; therefore, some islands, or 

position? 8 ~~ ° P ' '^** island, e. g. Ireland, was originally attached to a continent The argu- 
ment in this form is an enthymeme. In order that it may be expanded 
into a syllogism the major premise is required : it becomes whatever is true 

of all islands is true of some islands ; it is true of all islands that they were attached to a 

continent ; therefore it is true of some islands that they belonged to a continent. 

We assert, No man is perfect ; therefore, some men, or this man is not perfect : the major 

premise being whatever is denied of all men is denied of some men. 

In conversion we conclude from All men are mortal, that some mortals 
are men. From No man is perfect, that no perfect being is a man, 

Conversion. and so on throughout the cases that are possible, the major premise in each 

instance being a periphrastic proposition, as the predicate affirmed of all men 
may be the subject when limited by some, etc. 

It might seem at first that the proper major premise in such cases, should be the more general axiom, 
as in the first example ; whatever is true of any whole is true of its part. But on a second thought we cor- 
rect ourselves by observing, that in such a case no middle term can possibly be devised to connect the major 
with the minor. The same is true, only more eminently, of what are called the laws of thought — as the laws 
of identity, of contradiction, and of the excluded middle ; no matter is furnished in such propositions, by which 
we can proceed to a conclusion. They are not laws of thought in the sense of being major premises for 
deduction. They are rather generalizations of the particular processes which the mind performs, and of the 
relations which they involve. They are simply rules for logical consistency (cf. § 548). 

on what does § 461 * "-^e f° rce °f tne argument in all these cases of purely 
the reasoning logical reasoning, is found in the essential nature of the 
concept, involving certain relations, as of the lohole to its part, 
of the subject to the predicate, and of the positive to the negative. But the 
nature of the concept is but another name for properties or relations 
which the mind nect-ssarily conceives every concept to possess, which 
the mind must necessarily think it to be, or be able, in other relations, to 
effect or occasion. The mind cannot conceive it except as a whole, con- 
taining parts ; the whole and the parts each having the same content or 
essence ; the positive being contrasted with and deniable of its opposite or 
negative, and vice versa. The mind must respect its own creations, and 
create according to the relations under or according to which it thinks. 
These products possess the properties which the mind's creative act gives 
them, and these must be thought out into all the applications or con- 
sequences which these properties suppose. The purely logical properties 
or relations are as truly causes of the object known in the conclusion, as are 
physical causes and mathematical relations. So far forth they are used by 
the mind as the reason of its knowing. It makes no difference whence 
their efficiency is derived, whether from the act of the Creator, giving 
force to mental and physical energies under their appropriate conditions ; 
or from the thinking power of man, giving thought-being and thought- 
properties to the products of its own activity, according to relations which 
are the very conditions of all knowledge. 



§ 462. REASONING. — VARIETIES OF DEDUCTION. 465 

In every kind of deduction, whatever may be the subject-matter, we are held 
All deduction is to reason logically, i. e., with formal consistency ; i. e., to deduce according to 
laws? ' ° S1Ca tne formal as well as the real, the analytic as well as the synthetic nature 

and relations of the concepts which we employ. We must accept and hold 
to the definitions which we ourselves lay down. If we fail to define our terms we are sup- 
posed to accept them with the import in which they are usually received. As rules or laws, 
to aid us in this logical consistency and rigor, the usually recognized laws of thought have 
been devised and employed which are known as the law of identity, of contradiction, and of 
the excluded middle (§ 548). 

We are also required to reason according to the relation of genera and 
Technical logical s P ec i es an( i tne rv ^ es which respect the conversion and opposition of proposi- 
deduction. tions. It does not often happen that the so-called logical or pure syllogisms 

are separately drawn out, because they are so easily followed and the force 
of the conclusions from them is rarely questioned. It is only when some oversight of these 
relations is allowed, that we have occasion to separate the reasoning which is purely logical 
from that which is founded upon the matter, whether this is mathematical or real. In such 
cases we call attention to the error or oversight by distinguishing the logical from the other 
relations with which it is combined. We then suppose the concepts to be correct in respect 
to matter in order that we may show the reasoning to be defective in form. We for the mo 
ment concede the truth of all the propositions asserted and point out the error in the logical 
conduct of the argument. 

In reasoning which is confessedly hypothetical, where the matter is merely 
Hypothetical supposed, for the sake of the argument as we say, as in all cases of the 
reasoning. reductio ad absurdum, and in many instances for the purpose of tracing 

certain facts or assertions to their consequences, the consequences are said 
to be the results or conclusion which are required by the argument as such. This kind of 
reasoning differs from the technically logical as in the immediate syllogism, in this, that the 
reasoning does not turn upon the essential relations of the concept as such, but upon the rela- 
tions or properties of the object which are conceived to be real. We treat the concepts as 
though they represented realities. We view them as real. They are to us as if they were 
real. Thus : we suppose the diamond to be incombustible or the diameter of the earth to be 
of a given length, or the force of gravity, or the properties of oxygen or hydrogen to be so and 
so ; it makes no difference whether these properties are real or untruly taken, we reason 
about them as though the objects existed in fact and their relations or properties were 
correctly conceived. 

But in the logical reasoning technically so termed, i. e., in immediate syllogisms, the reasons 
are found not in real properties or mathematical relations, whether they are correctly or 
incorrectly taken, but upon certain relations essential to the concept as such, which cannot 
be assumed as hypotheses but are necessarily true of all concepts and objects a? conceived. 
The relations of wholes to parts, of a proposition to its converse, of a positive to a negative, 
are always the same and always known. 

Two elements in § 462, ^ e foregoing analysis of the varieties of deduction 
auction 046 ° f de ~ w ^ ^ave P re P are< ^ us to distinguish, in reasoning, that part 

of the process which is preparative or auxiliary, from that 
which is simply and strictly deductive. That which is characteristic of 
every kind of reasoning, is derived from the elements and materials with 
which these subsidiary processes have to do. But in what we call the 
act or process of reasouing, the two operations are so intimately blended 
together, they are so closely and intimately intertwined, that it is not easy 

30 



466 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §462 

to distinguish the one from the other. For example, in probable reason- 
ing, the force and conclusiveness of the argument may seem to turn chiefly 
upon the facts of observation and testimony which establish the minor 
premise, or the inductions which support the major, and very little upon 
the act of bringing the two together in the relations of an argument. 
The auxiliary and preliminary steps are all that are needful. As soon as 
these are taken, the conjunction of the parts as major and minor, as prin- 
ciple and case, as law and fact, might naturally occur to the mind and give 
the inevitable conclusion. In geometrical reasoning, as we have seen, the 
establishment of the conclusion sought for, depends almost entirely on the 
skilful suggestion of the appropriate auxiliary lines, and the orderly con- 
catenation of the several arguments, so that they may tend to % and issue 
in one result. In common life, the issue of the reasoning depends upon 
the establishment of certain facts, in connection with certain principles. 
Upon the proof of the facts and the enforcement and illustration of the 
principles, the reasoner expends the resources of memory and invention, 
of wit and eloquence. The facts being established and the principles 
received, the argument enforces itself (cf. Trendelenburg, Log. Unter- 
suchungen, ii. 280-83). 

The invention of middle terms, or media of proof, is an art or power in 
The invention , . . „„ . , , , . , 

and establish- respect to which men differ more widely than in respect to the merely logical 

terms ° f mlcldle power, or the capacity to derive conclusions from their premises. There is 
a greater diversity in regard to the readiness, fertility, and appropriateness 
of the materials which we can command, than in the power to discern the applicability of the 
law, the principle, or the reason to the case which we have in hand. Upon skill and aptness 
in these processes, is founded very largely the estimate in which the ability of a reasoner is 
held. Preeminence in these goes very far to determine the reputation of a powerful debater 
or controversialist. But this affluence of invention and skill in selection must be attended 
with a ready tact in forecasting all the results of a multitude of deductive processes, when 
applied to all the cases which the fancy suggests. There must be present the power to gen- 
eralize the highest and the remotest abstractions, the habit of seeing all facts in their relations 
to their principles and reasons, the capacity to hold the attention evenly and steadily in long 
and closely-connected series of deductions, all which capacities come only from the special 
development, and usually from the patient and practised training of the philosophical powers. 
When these habits are matured by such training, the soul learns to act with the precision and 
rapidity of intuition. It must so act in order to reason with success when pressed by a powerful 
antagonist, in the haste and excitement of debate, or under the unexpected and ingenious 
assaults or defences which are elicited in an active controversy. 

often the most ^ e establishment of the principles or the reasons which are 
important part involved and required in an argument, is often the point of 

ot the process. m * . 

chief importance. In such a case, the power to discern the 
widest relations, and to analyze the most subtle properties, comes most 
into play. Inasmuch as in what is called induction, the deductive power 
is prominently employed, there can be no question that in this part of the 
reasoning process, the logical faculty, or power of analytic and consistent 
thinking is especially tasked, and superiority in it is necessarily manifest 



§463. EEASOOTNG. — VAKIETIES OF DEDUCTION. 46*? 

The po ver to fall back upon principles readily and surely, and to apply 
them to special cases with aptness and force, is the power which distin« 
guishes the reasoner from the man of extensive knowledge, the man of 
fertile invention, the man of ready wit, or the man eloquent in descrip- 
tion and appeal. All these endowments, either singly or in combination, 
give richness and force to the argument. It is a command of the princi- 
ples that are required to establish the truths or events which are in ques- 
tion, which distinguishes one as a reasoner. To this power must be 
superadded, as it is always supposed, the capacity to proceed with logical 
clearness and rigor from the reason to the conclusion. When the succes- 
sion of arguments is complicated and long, when the facts are so numerous 
as to tend to distract the attention, when plausible reasons for error 
or falsehood closely resemble those which are valid and pertinent, 
the power to maintain a series of deductions steadily to their one 
result is, strictly speaking, the logical or deductive power. This marks 
the logician proper, as he is contrasted with and distinguished from the 
reasoner, 

3 „ • § 463. We are now prepared to answer the question which 

Does deduction " A x - 1 

add to ^our has been frequently and earnestly agitated, whether deduc- 
tion adds to our knowledge. Many have contended that it 
does not and cannot. They urge, that if we know the major premise, 
we already know the conclusion ; that when Ave assent to the major, All 
men are mortal, we have already settled the question, that Peter also is 
mortal, and that whatever advantage there may be in using an argument 
to this conclusion, it does not add to our stock of knowledge. We do 
not, it is urged, gain by it any new truth. 

To this argument, in the form in which it is urged, we might 
may need to be reply, in the first place, that if we substitute for " we know 
already," the phrase " we might know if we would think or 
reflect," there would be less reason to object to it. For the very object 
of reasoning is often to lead a person to reflect or think concerning the 
facts or principles to which he assents. Thus, when a man institutes a 
process of deduction, or follows one presented by another, one of three 
things may be true. First, he may never have accepted, through igno- 
rance or want of thought, the major premise, the principle or reason 
which it involves, or, at least, not so distinctly as to be ready to apply it 
in every particular case. But he may be induced to accept it for the first 
time by the very excitement of the occasion — i. e., by the use or applica- 
tion which is to be made of it. This proposal may so challenge and 
excite his attention, that he is induced to reflect upon it in order to apply 
it. Second, he may never before have accepted the minor so as to be able 
to connect it with the general truth, even though it had already been 
familiar to his knowledge and assent. Third, he may have accepted both 
major and minor, but may never have thought of the two in such a con- 



468 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §464, 

nection as to perceive that relation between the two which involves the 
truth of the conclusion. 

This last would not be accepted as possible by those who view the dictum de omni et 
hullo as giving the entire theory of the deductive process. Such persons would contend that 
we must know the parts before we know the whole ; and, indeed, in order that we may know 
the whole ; and that, therefore, if we already know the whole, as expressed in the major pre 
mise, we must also have known the parts, thereby rendering the deductive process super 
fluous. But this reductio ad absurdum proves that this theory of the deductive process must 
itself be defective, rather than that the process itself does not add to our knowledge. 

In the second place, an argument is usually addressed to a person who 
has not accepted a conclusion, by a person who has accepted it. The one 
who uses the argument, knows this conclusion to be true. The person to 
whom it is addressed does not know it. The argument is the means used 
to make him know it. In some sense of the phrase, it adds to the knowl- 
edge of the person whom it convinces. It ordinarily does this by leading 
him so to reflect, that he enlarges his knowledge or his belief. First, it 
may be, he is led to accept the major ; next, he assents to the minor ; and 
last of all, he is induced so to connect the two, that he himself is con- 
vinced, and of himself accepts the conclusion. 

Reasoning is, in fact, constantly employed to enlarge the knowledge of men. 

Deduction, in j^ wou id b e idle, as it might seem, to contend that the student of a system of 

fact, enlarges ' ° ' J 

our knowledge. geometry does not thereby add to his knowledge, or that all the knowledge 

which he gains is acquired by induction or intuition. It seems to be almost 
trifling to assert, that a student of philosophy, whether natural, moral, or political, does not 
increase his knowledge by the study of the many arguments which he encounters ; that it is 
the new facts which he acquires, or the fresh inductions which he makes, which alone increase 
his acquisitions. Deduction is constantly employed as a means of instruction in all depart- 
ments of science, and it would seem with the greatest advantage to those who gain knowl- 
edge thereby. 

It may not be true, that reasoning imparts the knowledge of new facts. It 
Deduction may usually happens that the mind has already accepted the facts which are con- 
facts. ea ° n6W cerned, as unquestionably true. Or, if it should chance that some new fact 

or facts are established in the course of an argument, it is not the facts that 
are counted of consequence, but it is the relation of these facts to the principle or reason 
which is of prime importance. 

§ 464. This leads us to the decisive answer to this view of 
of relations the deductive process. Knowledge is as truly concerned 

with the apprehension of relations, as with the cognition of 
facts. If we turn to the definition of knowledge which was originally 
laid down, we shall find that the apprehension of relations is as important 
an element in the process as the apprehension of facts, and that the various 
sorts or kinds of knowledge are distinguished as truly by the relations 
which are known, as they are by the objects between which these relations 
exist. New or additional knowledge is as properly the knowledge under 
new relations of facts already known or very familiar, as the acquisition of 



§464. INDUCTIVE SEASONING OR INDUCTION. 409 

new facts by observation, testimony, or intuition. Deduction applies 
reasons to facts or events, in order to establish their truth, or explain their 
existence or occurrence. It is often required, as we know, to convince 
ourselves or others that a fact or event must have been true or must have 
occurred. The man that is convinced by such a process of the reality of 
the fact, must thereby have gained new knowledge of its relations. 

Or, again, the process is applied to explain why it occurred ; the fact 
or event being admitted, the reason for its occurrence is asked for. When 
that reason is given by the application of the deductive process, the fact 
*s known in a new relation. The knowledge of the fact as explained by 
its reason is certainly new knowledge. Deduction applies general causes, 
elements or properties, as reasons to confirm or explain events and facts. 
It not only adds to our knowledge, but it adds knowledge which is 
eminent for its worth and dignity — thought-knowledge of the highest kind 
—knowledge in the light of the principles and laws which govern and 
explain all individual facts and events. 

Mr. Herbert Spencer {Principles of Psychology), and Mr. George Henry Lewes {Aristotle, § 64, 64 a.) 
deserve great credit for the advance which they have made upon Mr. J. S. Mill, in so distinctly asserting 
the truth, that what we call the knowledge of facts involves the knowledge of'relations. But they all labor 
in their exposition of reasoning, both deductive and inductive, under the common defect of being com- 
pelled by the fundamental principle of the positivist metaphysics to reject all relations except those of 
co-existence and of succession, i. e., to admit the relations of time and space in some sort, but to exclude the 
relations of causation and design. Hence Mr. Lewes is shut up to the necessity of saying, that " correct 
reasoning is the ideal assemblage of objects in their true relations of co-existence and succession." {Aris- 
totle, § 65.) 

It is quite remarkable that Mr. Lewes, after proceeding so far in the right direction* should have the 
boldness to say that the method which recognizes two relations, viz., those of co-existence and of succession, 
ts the scientific; and the method which recognizes two more, viz., those of causation and adaptation, is the 
metaphysical, and then should define "metaphysics" as "the coordination of unverified facts," and 
" science" as "the coordination of verified facts." (Cf. Aristotle, § 75.) 



CHAPTER VIIL 

INDUCTIVE REASONING OR INDUCTION. 

We have seen that, in order to perform these processes of deduction which relate to facts and 
events — the processes called probable reasoning — the mind must be furnished with major 
premises or general propositions. Whether these propositions express only the extent 
of a class in which particulars are included, or general grounds or reasons by which some 
particular is explained or established, it is obvious that such propositions must first be 
gained or furnished, in order that they may be applied to particular cases. Unless such 
premises are possessed, the process of deduction has no meaning. It may not be neces- 
sary that the major premise which is required in a given case, should have been assented 
to before the occasion occurs for its application. So far as lapse of time is concerned, 
there may be no interval perceptible or actually perceived between the act of acquiring 



470 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §465 

and of applying the general truth. But in the order of thought, the two acts are entirel) 
different. They differ in their nature and in the grounds on which they rest. 

The process by which we gain the truths thus applied, is called induction or inductive 
reasoning. What is the nature of this process ? What are the conditions and grounds 
of its exercise ? What the assumptions on which it rests ? What are its applications to 
human knowledge, and what are the rules for its successful use ? These inquiries are all 
natural and necessary, and present themselves for solution at the present stage of our 
inquiries. 

8 465. Induction is usually defined as the deriving of 

Inadequate defi- ° : .,,.,.. ■ 

nition of indue- generals from particulars / and in this is contrasted with 
deduction, in which we are said to proceed from generals to 
particulars. This definition is correct so far as it goes, but it is by no 
means precise or exhaustive. There are many processes conceivable in 
which we derive generals from particulars which are not processes of 
induction. 

For example : We observe ten oranges, and, noticing them one by one, perceive a com- 
mon likeness of qualities. We gather the results of our observations into the general judg- 
ment or proposition : all these oranges are slightly oval, or light yellow, or yellow mottled 
with green. It is obvious that such a judgment, though general and derived from particulars, 
has not been gained by induction. Suppose we go further in a similar direction, and derive 
a general proposition which should apply to all the oranges which we have ever seen, or a? 
the individual men whom we have ever encountered, or have ever heard of, and assert of th •. 
latter : all these have died. Or suppose we assert : all crows are black, all swans are white, 
meaning thereby all that have as yet existed or have been reported. Or suppose we carry the 
generalization still higher, and assert : all ruminants — i. e., those observed or discovered — 
divide the hoof. None of these are the general propositions which are gained by induction. 

inductions of That they cannot be, is obvious from the fact, that such 
be iB Sd S n de- propositions cannot be applied in deduction. To seek thus 
duction. t0 a ppiy them, would be an idle form attended by no advan- 

tage, and leading to no conviction. 

If all that we know or had learned was simply : all swans hitherto observed were white, 
or all men observed or reported have died, we should already havo included in the major 
premise the truth of the conclusion, and it would be idle to expand the knowledge already 
gained into a form of deduction. Or, if we had not previously determined whether the indi- 
viduals now concerned were of the class of swans or men, we should not yet be competent to 
say that all swans were white, or all men were dead ; that is, we should not have gained the 
major required. The moment that the requisite observations were made, and we had gained 
the major required, we should have gained the conclusion ; i. e., we should have gained by 
observation, what we might propose to gain by reasoning. With such general propositions as 
premises, deductive reasoning would be either superfluous or impertinent. 

"If induction," says Galileo, "must go through every individual 
instance, it would be either useless or impossible ; impossible if the 
number of cases were infinite ; useless, because then the universal proposi- 
tion would add nothing new to our knowledge." Apelt. Theorie der 
Induction, Leipzig, 1854, p. 142. 






§ 406. INDUCTIVE EEASONING OE INDUCTION. 471 

And yet inductions like these — so-called — have been named 

such inductions ' i i n i -i • i • -i • mi 

styled the purely by some the only perfect or truly logical inductions. JLney 
are called perfect for the reason that the evidence for then? 
is decisive, and cannot admit the possibility of mistake ; whatever is 
true of each part of the extent of the concept, must be true of all when 
taken together or grouped as a whole. It is sufficient to observe that, if 
they are exposed to no error, they contribute no truth. They are safe 
but useless. They admit of no application, except as a convenience for 
the memory. 

Cf. Hamilton, Logic, Lee. xvii. § 62 ; also Lee. xxxiii. § 108 ; also Appendix vii. 

Whately, Logic, B. iv. c. i., contends that induction is properly applied to the processes 
of observation or experiment, by which the facts are collected or from which our inferences are 
made, and that the inference is properly an act of deduction or syllogistic reasoning, the major 
premise of which is the assertion that the facts observed and generalized represent the whole 
class. 

"When they are called truly logical, the process is the reverse of what is called pure logical 
deduction, i. e., the simple analysis of the extent of a concept into its constituent parts or 
elements. But the real import and force of logical deduction is, as we have seen, not found 
in this formal process, or the relations of quantity which it involves. If the induction 
described is alone worthy to be dignified with the epithet of " truly logical," it is shown to be 
worthless for the higher knowledge to which logical forms are subsidiary. 

§ 466. That which is properly called induction is a process 
proper indue- of another character. It is the results of this process only 

which are of any use in deduction. Examples of it are such 
as these. I observe a certain number of oranges, and notice their char- 
acteristics, and infer or believe that all oranges have certain peculiarities 
of form, internal constitution, habits of growth, etc., etc. In like manner, 
I infer all swans are and must be white ; not merely all the swans that 
have existed, or those which have been observed and described, but the 
whole species in the past, the present, and future. In such cases we take 
the examples which we have observed to stand for or represent the 
entire class. 

But by what authority do we thus substitute the whole for a part ? By what process do 
we advance from the observation of a few individuals, or, as the case may be, of a few species, 
to a belief or certainty that what is true of these few must hold good of all that are like 
them ? The process is certainly unlike that by which we gather our individual observations 
into a general statement, and say, what is true of the parts separately considered, is true of 
them all when taken together. For, in every such case, we affirm, what is observed of the 
few, is presumed or assumed to be true of all. The ground of this assumption is, that the few 
represent the many — that the parts are a fair specimen or example of the whole. 

" C'est cet acte de notre intelligence par lequel nous faisons passer (ducere in, eiray<ayrj en grec) a tous 
les points de l'espace et de la duree, et a une serie indefinie d'existences semblables ce que nous avons observe 
dans tel lieu, dans tel moment et dans un nombre restreint d'individus, qui est designe par les phiiosopbes 
sous le nom ^induction. H<bc, dit Ciceron (Topic, c. 10), ex pluribus perveniens quo vult, appcllalur inductlo 
fuse grsece enayuiyrj nominalur," Diet, des Sciences Philosophiqucs. Art. Induction. 



472 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §468. 

8 467. It is obvious that such assumptions are constantly 

Such inductions ° x J 

are constantly made by us, and that upon them rests not only the entire 



superstructure of scientific knowledge, but all that practical 
wisdom which we acquire from experience. Indeed, without them, our 
experience of the past would be of no use for the future. Without these 
assumptions, the observation of facts or events, and the judgments of 
similarity and classification founded upon them, would give us only certain 
summaries of what had occurred in the past, but which could be affirmed 
only of the objects and events from which they were derived. But we do 
more with them than this. We apply them to future time and to other objects 
and events, with entire confidence, and without the slightest misgiving. 

We judge of the taste and quality of the food or fruits which we eat, not only by having 
eaten of one part and inferring in respect to the remainder, but before eating, by an induction 
founded on the qualities which we discern by the other senses — i. e., by peculiarities of form, 
structure, color, and smell. We accept or reject, we desire or loathe, that which has not been 
tried, through our confidence in these carefully observed indications. We do the same with 
articles of medicine. We do not care to try each fresh piece of rhubarb, or take of every 
new parcel of arsenic, opium, or strychnine, to be convinced, by actual experience, that the 
signs by which we know the substance to be rhubarb or strychnine, show that it will act 
medicinally, or destroy life. We do not caress a ferocious-looking dog, or come near a horse 
who makes vicious demonstrations, upon the wise suggestion that experience has not taught us 
that this particular dog will bite, or this horse will kick ; but we give both of them a wide 
berth, on the ground of observation or testimony in regard to others like them. We learn, by 
trial, that certain kinds of soil and certain processes Of culture, are favorable to the vine, the 
strawberry, the rose, and the tulip. We derive rules which we assume will always apply 
to these plants. In the department of science, we develop oxygen and hydrogen from a 
quantity of water, and believe that water, whenever treated in .a similar way, will give the 
same gases. By certain broader assumptions, we conclude that electricity causes the phe- 
nomena of lightning ; that gravitation holds the heavenly bodies in their places, and moves 
them in their orbits. These various kinds pf knowledge are examples, as they are the results 
of the several assumptions referred to. 

in what respects § 468. It follows that judgments of induction differ from 
fro^simp^fe simple judgments, in certain important particulars. To 
judgments. return to our first example : we see ten oranges with certain 

well-defined characteristics ; or it may be, a hundred or a hundred thousand. 
We bring them under their appropriate concepts, and judge or affirm 
these concepts of the individual objects. In induction we proceed 
further : we add to these simple judgments yet another, viz., that what 
we have found to be true of these, may be received as true of all others 
like them. In other words, we extend the original simple judgment to 
other objects than those to which it was first applied. The ground of the 
first judgment is facts observed and compared. The ground of the 
second is what is called the analogy of nature. A judgment of induc- 
tion is then a judgment of analytic observation, added to or enlarged by 
a judgment of analogy. The judgment of observation is founded on 



§ 470. INDUCTIVE SEASONING OR INDUCTION. 473 

observed similarity. The judgment of analogy is founded on interpreted 
indications. 

The very words signs and indications, which are used so freely in common life and in 
science, imply this very truth, viz., that certain events or attributes that are observed, give 
information of — i. e., signify or indicate — that which is not thus known. 

8 469. What is usually called experience, includes acts of 

Relation of ex- s . J . , . ' ■, -, 

perience to in- i?iduction. Simple observation and judgment do not con- 
stitute what we usually call experience ; for this imports not 
only that we have made and preserved observations, but also that we are 
capable of applying the results in parallel cases. This implies the power 
to discriminate between cases that are, and those that are not similar. 
Without this power or discipline, observation or bare experience would 
be possible, but useless. For it would enable us simply to attain and retain 
our knowledge of the past, but never to apply it to the future. 

We could record what we had observed, and generalize what we had compared, but could 
find neither wisdom nor instruction for the future and the untried. Those who are so 
ready to oppose facts to inferences, experience to theory, observation to speculation, should 
always bear in mind, that in the simple experience and observation of facts, there is neither 
instruction nor use without the added element of induction, which is always a judgment by 
means of signs or indications ; or an interpretation of facts. 

In performing this process, or, more exactly, in this part or step of the 
Caution to be process, much caution and care are required. It is by no means true, that 
judgments. a ^ * ne characteristics which occur together in the same object or event, can 

be judged to be necessary or essential companions. It might happen that 
all the oranges which we had eaten, had derived their flavor from a particular tree or soil, and 
yet were like many other oranges in form, color, etc. ; none of which had acquired this taste. 
The induction that such characteristics indicated this taste, would be false and unauthorized. 
A man familiar with rabbits might never have seen any which were not gray. It would be a 
natural but false induction for him to make, that none were black or white. A person might 
have succeeded with the crop of which he had sown the seed on a particular day of the moon, 
and have failed in every instance in which he had sown on any other day; and yet 4 the 
induction might be irrational, that the sowing on that day was the cause of his success. In 
the history of scientific discoveries, many plausible inductions have been set aside as un- 
tenable. In valid inductions, we infer what is familiarly called a real, permanent, and con- 
stant connection between the qualities, attributes, or laws inferred, and those which were 
observed. If we could ascertain and be able to express the grounds upon which we proceed, 
they might be the appropriate evidence of a wise induction. The criteria by which we judge 
one process to be legitimate or false, would be the criteria of every correct judgment of this 
kind. The rules for a correct procedure, if they could be ascertained, would be the rules in 
which we might confide. 

8 470. In view of these considerations, the questions return 

Importance of a " . ■* 

correct theory of upon us with augmented interest and importance : What is 

Induction. / . , 

the ground, what the nature, and what are the rules for a sound 
induction? They are questions which have often been asked, and not 
always very satisfactorily or thoroughly answered. As preliminary to the 
development of the correct answers, and to a satisfactory theory of indue- 



474 THE HUMA^ INTELLECT. § 471. 

tion, we may profitably consider a few examples in which the process has 
been successfully applied. 

The inductions of common life have already been noticed. 

Examples of in- m Trp n i • -i n • i 

auctions of com- Iney amer trom the inductions of science, in that their 
results are incapable of being reduced to universal state- 
ments to which there are no exceptions. £Tor do they result in the dis 
covery of ultimate properties, agencies, and laws. The inferences which 
they furnish are usually general maxims to which there may be many 
exceptions, or undefined and vague impressions which language can neither 
embody nor impart. They are carried far enough for practical convenience, 
but not far enough for scientific curiosity or instruction. Their results are 
seen in the common sense and common prudence which are essential to 
the performance of the common acts and duties of common life. By 
means of them men interpret the signs of the material universe, the dis- 
positions and acts of the brute creation, as well as the thoughts and feel- 
ings of their fellows by looks and actions. Uncommon skill and readiness 
in interpreting such indications is termed acuteness, discernment, sagacity, 
and tact. Less than the usual capacity to make such inductions quickly 
and correctly, is denominated slowness and stupidity. The average 
capacity is called common sense in one of the senses of this widely-used 
appellation. 

§ 471. The second class of examples of the process of induc- 
o?science UCtl ° ns ^ on * s f urmsne< ^ by ^ ne discoveries of science. The induc- 
tions of common life are in one sense discoveries, but the 
indications are so readily interpreted and the inferences are derived with 
so great unanimity and universality, that the intellectual process (or 
processes) by which they are made, attracts little attention, and is, there- 
fore, not readily analyzed. Bat when some new and wonderful agent in 
nature is brought to light, or some new law of its acting is established, 
and especially when the power or law is applied to some brilliant or useful 
result, and we inquire with the greatest interest, How came the discoverer to 
think of that ? How did he satisfy himself that what he thought was true ? 
we are more likely to -find an answer to our questions, inasmuch as the 
steps of the process have often been slowly made, and the considerations 
which have led to them can be distinctly reproduced. 

We select, first of all, the brilliant discovery by Franklin of the identity of 

Franklin's in- Ughtninq with electricity.. With the electrical agent, or, as it was called in 

auction of elec- J * «f._ _ . ,. .,„.,. ^ 

tricity. his time, the electric fluid, Franklin was entirely familiar. He was so far 

master of the methods of developing it in sufficient quantity or intensity, as 

to be able to produce its ordinary and obvious phenomena, as well as to exhibit phenomena 

that had previously been unknown. He had the electrical machine and the Leyden jar, and 

could produce at pleasure the electrical light, and the report following the connection of 

bodies in opposite electrical conditions. With these, then somewhat novel phenomena, he 

had become entirely familiar in observation and thought ; as familiar as men in common life 






INDUCTIVE REASONING OR INDUCTION. 4 75 



are with the aspect or form of a fruit, or with the expression of a gentle or vicious animal 
He had also closely observed the phenomena of lightning, and had noticed similarities which 
had never been thought of before. The wave-like sheet and the zig-zag line and the loud 
report were seen to be like the less impressive phenomena of the machine and the Leyden 
jar ; and it occurred to his thoughts that the similarity of the phenomena indicated a common 
agent or power as their cause. This suggestion was strengthened by the thought, that clouds 
might be to clouds, or clouds to the earth, as the opposite surfaces of the Leyden jar. The 
mere observation of similarities like these might have satisfied the mind of Franklin, that the 
power or fluid in the heavens must be the same with that which could be accumulated by the 
machine from the earth. When at last he succeeded in bringing the power in question to 
affect a small quantity of matter, when he made it to run along an insulated kite-string, to 
emit a spark, to charge a Leyden jar — in short, to exhibit not only similar but the same indica- 
tions with machine electricity, the induction could no longer be doubted. The decisive 
experiment proved the correctness of the thought. 

Dr. Black was led to the discovery of carbonic acid gas, by observing that 
Dr. Black's dis- caustic lime increased in weight when changed into common lime, and by 
bordc^acid gas!*" inferring that this weight must be derived from some agent of or in the 

atmosphere. This suggested the thought that the other alkalies, being like 
caustic lime in other properties, were like it also in this. The experiment was tried, and the 
suggestion was found to be correct. This put him upon the inquiry what the agent was which 
entered into combination with all these substances. The inquiry resulted in the separation 
of carbonic acid gas as a newly-discovered agent, and the determination of its properties and 

laws. 

Lavoisier discovered that a metal, by rusting, gains in weight ; and it being 

Lavoisier's dis- previously known that the phenomena attending upon combustion and the 
covery c oxy- rus ^ m g f me tals were similar, oxygen was discovered and its properties 
were ascertained. The most important step toward this result was made 
during the previous researches concerning Phlogiston, which had established the generalization 
of a common process in the formation of iron-rust, in acidification, in respiration, and in 
ordinary combustion. 

Dalton is said to have discovered the law that chemical combinations are 
Dalton's indue- effected by the union of their constituent elements in fixed proportions ; and 
equivalents™ 1 ^ tnat > when a larger portion of an agent, as oxygen, enters into such a combina- 
tion, it is invariably a multiple of a smaller. He was led to this by the 
knowledge that, in some cases, a combination in such proportions had in fact been observed. 
Being a teacher of mathematics and accustomed to mathematical relations, he generalized the 
result of a few chance observations into a universal law ; it " being irresistibly recommended 
by the clearness and simplicity which the notion possessed." 

One of the most instructive instances of modern discovery, is that achieved 
Davy's discovery by Sir Humphrey Davy, of the metallic bases of the alkaline earths. The 
etc P ° assmm ' similarity of appearance and of many chemical properties between such 
alkalies as potash, soda, and lime, and the clearly identified oxyds of metals, 
had led to the suggestion, that they were similar in chemical constitution — i. e., that they all 
were oxyds of metals. But the metals believed in do not exist in nature in a separate 
state, nor had they ever been exhibited in separate form by any agent of decomposition hitherto 
employed. The suggestion that there were such metals, and that they might be evolved, was 
confirmed by all the indications required as evidence, except their actual production. The 
application of the galvanic battery to chemical decomposition, and the triumphant success 
which had attended its use, led Davy to try it upon the hitherto intractable and irreducible 
potash. Under the solvent power of this wondrous agent, the knot which had never before 
been unloosed was untied in an instant. At the magic touch of this new instrument, the 
little globe of the newly-discovered metal leaped into view, and the happy suggestion was con 



476 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 472, 

firmed and accepted as an undoubted fact. It scarcely needed the experiment to convince 
the sagacious interpreter of the secrets of nature, that similar metals were encrusted 
within common, lime and soda. The discoverer was almost as certain before as after the battery 
was applied, that calcium and sodium would in fact be evolved. 

The consideration that the electric agency could alone overcome combina 
Me2y° n of f the tions like these > in its turn started the suggestion that the union of all 
electric and chemical elements is to be ascribed to the electric force, acting in certain 

(* nf ynm p.3.1 forces 

methods and after certain laws, and that their tendency to unite is overcome 
by bringing these elements into an opposite electrical condition. This suggestion was tested 
by a great variety of experiments, with such results as to establish it as a truth beyond the 
possibility of doubt or question ; thus bringing chemical laws and the electrical force into a 
most intimate relation. 

8 472. In the last series of discoveries we notice the following 

The order of ° _ , _ . __. ° 

thought in these order and progress 01 thought and experiment. First, the 
oxyds of metals were observed to be like the alkalies in 
certain important properties. But the metallic oxyds were known to be 
produced by chemical changes ; copper, iron, etc., constantly undergoing 
this process before our eyes. The two substances being alike in certain 
particulars, it was conjectured that they were alike in others. If the 
simple potassium had been within reach, or could have been found in a 
separate state, the readiest way to determine the point would have been 
to oxydize potassium, and see whether the result would be potash. The 
next thing was to Je-oxydize it — i. e., to undo what nature was supposed 
to have done, or rather to separate the elements which nature was sup- 
posed to have united. This was accomplished by the agency of galvanism. 
It was then observed that this galvanic agency could decompose many 
chemical compounds which were exceedingly unlike, and it was suggested 
that possibly there were none which it could not overcome. If this were 
so, it would follow, according to the known laws of this agent, that the 
force which held them in union, must be electric. This was established 
by its appropriate evidence, and is called by Whewell, " the highest 
generalization at which chemical philosophers have yet arrived." Hist. 
Inductive Sciences, B. xiv. c. 10: 

The mental process is precisely the same which has been already 
described. Certain objects are seen to be alike in certain properties or 
laws. It is believed or judged that the similarity in these particulars 
indicates likeness in others. Potash is like iron-rust in certain re- 
spects ; therefore it is like iron-rust in being the oxyd of a metal. All 
chemical compounds are strikingly alike in certain particulars. Certain 
of these are separable by the electric force; therefore all are separable 
by this agency. But if separable by it, all are held in union by the same 
force. 

Discoveries in From discoveries of this kind we pass to those in astronomir 
thorny? 1 co- COj l physics — to the discoveries of Copernicus, Galileo^ 
pemicue, Kepler, and Newton. 



§ 472. INDUCTIVE SEASONING OE INDUCTION. 477 

Copernicus begins by discovering, as it is said, the heliocentric theory of the sola? 
system. The way in which he was led to adopt and defend it, is described by himself. He 
had found in ancient authors, accounts of Philolaus and others who had asserted the motion 
of the earth. " Then I began to meditate concerning the motion of the earth ; and though 
it appeared an absurd opinion, yet, since I knew that in previous times others had been 
allowed the privilege of feigning what circles they chose, in order to explain the phenomena, 
I conceived that I also might take the liberty of trying whether, on the supposition of the 
earth's motion, it was possible to find better explanations than the ancient ones of the revolu- 
tions of the celestial orbs. 

" Having, then, assumed the motions of the celestial orbs which are hereafter explained, 
by laborious and long observation I at length found that, if the motions of the other planets 
be compared with the revolution of the earth, not only their phenomena follow from the 
supposition, but also that the several orbs and the whole system are so connected in order and 
magnitude, that no one part can be transposed without disturbing the rest, and introducing 
confusion into the universe." 

" Thus," says Whewell, " the satisfactory explanation of the apparent motions of the 
planets, and the simplicity and symmetry of the system, were the grounds on which Copernicus 
adopted his theory ; as the craving for these qualities was the feeling which led him to seek 
for a new theory." Whewell, Hist. Ind. Sciences, B. v. c. ii. 

In 1609 Galileo constructed his telescope, and very soon discovered the 
Preparations for satellites of Jupiter. This at once confirmed the Copernican theory, by 
Newton! Very ° opening before the eyes of men another system subordinate to the solar,* 

of heavenly bodies revolving about their primaries, thus giving an analogon 
of the greater. The subsequent discovery by the same instrument of the phases of Venus, at 
once confirmed the new theory of the revolution of the planets about the sun, and answered 
an objection against it by explaining why Venus did not appear larger when nearer the 
beholder. 

Copernicus furnished the suggestion by reflecting on the known fact, that the apparent places 
of objects may be accounted for by the motion of one or both, and that the solution or theory 
which was the simplest, was to be preferred. Galileo, by his telescope, prepared the way 
for the experiment, by enabling observers, in a certain sense, to observe for themselves, which 
moved — the sun or the earth. 

Kepler prepared the way for the sublime discoveries of Newton, by his 
Process by which determination of the orbits of some of the planets, and the law of their 
his induction. motions. Newton had been himself familiar with the law by which, in 

obedience to terrestrial gravity, bodies fall to the earth's surface. The first 
thought which led him to extend this agent to the celestial bodies occurred to him in 1666, 
when he had retired into the country from Cambridge, in the twenty-fourth year of his age. 
" As he sat alone in a garden, he fell into a speculation on the power of gravity ; that, as this 
power is not found sensibly diminished at the remotest distance from the centre of the earth 
to which we can rise, neither at the tops of the loftiest buildings, nor even on the summits 
of the highest mountains, it appeared to him reasonable to conclude that this power must 
extend much further than was usually thought. ' Why not as high as the moon ? ' said he to 
himself; 'and, if so, her motion must be influenced by it; perhaps she is retained in her 
orbit thereby.' " Pemberton, View of Newton's Philosophy. Preface. Upon this suggestion, 
he proceeded to the calculation of the deflection of the moon from a tangent to its orbit in a 
single second ; it being assumed that the moon was at the distance from the earth which was 
then received. The result disappointed him ; for he found that this deflection would be 
thirteen feet, which did not correspond with that required by the supposition that gravity 
deflected it. He laid his calculation aside for years. The subsequent discovery that the 
course described by a falling body is an ellipse, and that the distance of the moon from the 



478 - THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §4^5 

eartli. could be correctly ascertained, enabled him to accept his theory on the ground that it 
coincided with actual fact. The distance of the moon had previously been computed on an 
assumed but mistaken diameter of the earth. A more accurate measurement of. a degree 
upon the earth's surface led to a correction of the distance of the moon, and Newton's theory 
was henceforward accepted as a demonstrated truth. He first conjectures that the extension 
of a known force from the earth to the heavens, is possible and rational. He asks, " if so " 
" what then ? " following out his induction by a mathematical deduction. He then, by other 
mathematical calculations, tests this by a decisive experiment, and the conjectured agent is 
established as a vera causa, and its laws are carefully computed : the true theory of the 
heavenly bodies is forever settled. 

L, . , ' 8 473. The examples cited are sufficient to illustrate the 

Why inductions o ' * 

in physics are nature of the inductive process and the assumptions on which 

the most strik- r . . 

ing. it rests. They have been taken from the physical sciences, 

not because these differ essentially from those which concern moral and 
political subjects, but because they are better suited for our purpose. The 
objects with which they are concerned are more interesting to the majority 
of men. The effects of discoveries in them are more obvious. The 
experiments and observations which have led to them are more brilliant 
and startling. Many of their results are permanently fixed in the arts of 
life, both useful and ornamental. Some of them are continually brought 
home to our thoughts by engines and instruments which materially con- 
tribute to the convenience and comfort of man. The telescope, the prism, 
the quadrant, the hydraulic press, the steam engine, the galvanic battery, 
are all permanent memorials of what these processes have wrought, and 
they prompt to eager inquiries after the secret operations by which they 
were first constructed in thought. 

D diff-r ^ e attentive consideration of these examples proves that 

from those of induction in science is substantially the same process with 

common lite. m ... . 

induction in common life — that it is a process of interpreting 
indications, — in other words : of judging by means of discerned prop- 
erties and laws that there are others which we have not yet discerned, 
and could neither notice nor know by direct observation. 
Why are the in- § 4 ^ 4 * *^ n ^ s assertion would prompt the inquiries, Why, then, 
ductions of sci- are the processes of common induction so easy and those of 

ence more aim- * # J 

cult ? science so difficult ? Why is the progress to common sense 

so easily and. rapidly made in the infancy and childhood of the individual, 
and why have the advances of science been so difficult ? Why so long 
delayed ? — why, even now, is it true that in respect to so many branches 
of knowledge the race is yet in its infancy ? To these questions the fol- 
lowing answers can be given. It is important to consider the facts which 
they present, because they tend to throw important light upon the nature 
of the process of scientific induction. 

§ 475. We notice first, that in science, the properties observed, 
The indications an( j w Hch are the indicia or indicators of others, are less 

less obtrusive. • 7 

obtrusive than those used in common life, and are often 



§477 INDUCTIVE REASONING OK INDUCTION, 479 

far removed from common observation. To be apprehended even, they 
require closer attention than men in common life are able to give. 

If they were able to fix their attention upon them with success, they would not be willing 
to do it from the lack of that interest, that strong curiosity which is rarely developed and 
matured into a habit, except by special training in some school of art or science. Many of 
these properties can only be apprehended by some nicely constructed aid to the powers of 
sense, or some costly and ingeniously devised apparatus ; to the production of which special 
inventive sagacity was required, which sagacity has itself been the fruit of many men or 
generations which have gone before. One instrument has grown out of another, or it 
has been slowly perfected in its constituent parts. Every such improvement has enabled the 
observer to perceive properties or to effect measurements which were entirely beyond tho 
notice and the reach of the unaided powers of perception. 

„ . §476. Second: The inductions of common life are founded 

Require more o . • ■ • . • 

discriminating on observations that are not discriminating. Those of 

observations. m ° 

science rest upon the sharpest analysis. The common ob- 
server observes facts and detects principles in regard to things or powers 
in the gross, either as they are combined or are worked in nature. He 
does not go far beyond the things and phenomena which the common 
necessities of life require men to distinguish, which things and results, 
in their constitution, are, causes and laws ordinarily more or less com- 
plex. The scientific observer continually aims to detect and separate, by 
a refined and acute analysis, powers and agents which are never divided 
except by artificial appliances, — and some of which are never parted even 
by these. Hence the experiments of common sense and the experiments of 
science, are very different. 

Common sense observes the effects of objects and powers as they are brought together 
or divided by the manipulations of nature. Science parts and conjoins, in every possible 
method, with the express design of observing some effect, which effect shall, in its turn, de- 
cide some question of curious intelligence. Science often violates or intensifies some par- 
ticular power or property, in order to consider it alone. She separates or accumulates in 
order that she may estimate or measure gravity, electricity, light, or heat. She becomes 
familiar with, and treats and talks of these as though they were distinct agents in the uni- 
verse. It becomes in a certain sense true that the scientific observer creates a special and 
separate world of objects for himself. 

_. .'•-'. §477. Third: Many of the inductions in science are far 

The inductions « J 

of science more more general and comprehensive than those of common life. 

comprehensive. ■ « n . ~ i 

It is a fact of the universe of matter and of mind, — explain 
it or not as we may — that these subtle agents or laws which science 
detects one by one, are far more general and extensive than those which 
observation discerns. 

Of course they furnish the ground for more varied inductions. They can be applied to 
explain a greater number of individual phenomena. They suggest very many possible 
theories. They incite to a manifold greater number of experiments. When any such com- 
prehensive power or attribute is established, it can be used in a large number of deductions. 

The deeper we go beneath the surface we not only find things which are more novel than 



480 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 479. 

the casual and practical observer notices, but we find things which are immeasurably better 
fitted for science, which seeks for comprehensive causes and general laws, that for this very 
reason are unifying and explaining principles. 

8 478. Fourth : Another fact must not be overlooked. 

Recognize ma- « 

iatiSw tical re M an y °f these agents operate under geometrical relations, 
and according to arithmetical rules. They are thereby con- 
nected with relations which are at once the most varied in their applica- 
tion, and capable of the most definite description and computation. 

The relations of space and number are capable of being affirmed of every material entity 
and force, and hence if any are found to exist and act according to such relations we have at 
once the ground or means of a very comprehensive generalization. The language of mathe- 
matics is the most precise and intelligible, the most easily communicated, and the most 
easily understood of all language. The tests of measure, weight, and quantity are the most 
easily applied of all tests. 

The sciences of space and number are also capable of the clearest, the most convincing, and 
the most fruitful of deductions, and hence so far as they can be legitimately applied, they can 
most readily test experiments and record their results. One of the distinguishing peculiar- 
ities of scientific inductions is found in the circumstance that they are so widely, and severely 
mathematical. 

8 479. Fifth : Science is essentially more a growth than is 

One induction ° _* / . ' __ ' J _. ° .. 

prepares the way any other species oi knowledge. One discovery not only m 
fact prepares the way for another in the actual history and 
order of man's attainments, but by the necessary dependence of one dis- 
covered law or agent upon another. The discovery of the law of universal 
gravitation was in the nature of the case impossible without the aid of 
pure Geometry, Algebra, the Calculus, and the lavjs of Mechanics. Optics, 
with the use and the invention of the telescope, had been in part de- 
veloped before, and in part perfected by Newton, before they could be ap- 
plied by him to this particular discovery. In almost every great induc- 
tion, many of the sciences and arts are laid under contribution. All previous 
steps are presupposed in order that a single forward step may be taken. 

This is true only to a very limited degree of the inductions of common life. The well, 
qualified and well-trained man can with no great difficulty develop of himself much that the race 
has ever gained by common sense and observation, or appropriate and master it with ease. In 
many things it is true the common sense of to-day in a refined and educated community in 
England or America appropriates the products which the common sense and experience of others 
have matured and preserved in language, traditions, manners and institutions ; but all these are 
taken up by the mind with marvellous ease and require but little of that discipline, which the 
mastery of the circle of those sciences which are necessary for success, imposes upon the 
discoverer. There is very little difference between the common sense of Socrates and the 
common sense of the honest and independent observer of the nineteenth century, compared 
with the immense disparity in the amount of positive knowledge possessed by the student of 
Physics in Socrates' time and in our own. 

These considerations we think sufficiently explain the differences which 
exist between the inductions of science and those of common life and 



§480. INDUCTIVE REASONING OR INDUCTION. 481 

establish the truth that the process is substantially the same in each. The 
differences are to be accounted for by the difference in the subject-matter 
and not at all by any difference in the process. The identity of the pro- 
cess is confirmed by the fact that common knowledge easily prepares the 
way for knowledge by science, and that what would be and often is com- 
mon sense, becomes scientific sagacity when it is directed to and prepared 
for the study and interpretation of higher objects and relations. 

§ 480. Induction in both is a process which combines an ac- 

The problem of ° .5 -, . . 

induction r e - curate and sharp observation of properties and a sagacious in- 

mains unsolved. . n \ i ■ ' -i • -r> t i • 

terpretation 01 what they indicate. .But precisely at this point 
there presents itself the most interesting and vital of questions, ' On what 
ground or by what evidence do we proceed from the known to the un- 
known ? ' We can safely reply, it is not upon the ground of simple ex- 
perience. Because all the rabbits which we have seen have been gray 
we do not for this reason believe that all rabbits are of this color. It is 
not simply from the constant conjunction in our experience of the attributes 
or properties, that we proceed to the belief in their universal and necessary 
connection in the constitution of nature. It is true that for a long time 
it was believed that all swans are white, for the reason that no swan of 
any other color had been observed or heard of. 

"Mankind were wrong," says J. S. Mill, "in concluding that all swans are white : are we also wrong 
when we conclude that all men's heads grow above their shoulders and never below, in spite of the conflict- 
ing testimony of the naturalist Pliny ? We have no doubt what is the correct answer to this question. 
But why are not men wrong in rejecting such a story, an din believing with assured confidence, that wherever 
men exist, their heads are not beneath their shoulders ? Why is a single instance, in some cases, sufficient 
for a complete induction, while in others myriads of concurring instances, without a single exception known 
or presumed, go such a very little way towards establishing an universal proposition? Whoever can 
answer this question knows more of the philosophy of logic than the wisest of the ancients, and has solved 
the great problem of induction." Logic, B. iii. c. 3. 

If we seek to answer this question, we say it is more credible or reasonable to believe that 
swans should vary in color than that men should vary so greatly in form. But why is it more 
credible ? Some would deem it sufficient to reply that in most of the species of animals, 
individuals who are alike in every other respect differ in color, in other words, that it is the 
generally observed law that color is very variable, while the general outline or type of form is 
uniformly observed in every species, or at least has never admitted so monstrous a deviation, 
as would be implied in having the head beneath the shoulders. This would be Mill's answer 
to his own question, for in the last analysis or the ultimate solution, he makes extended 
observations and broad generalizations from observed facts to be the grounds of all Induction • 
nay, he makes the belief in causation itself, in the uniformities of nature, and in the necessary 
truth of mathematical axioms to rest upon uniform experience. But this does not relieve the 
difficulty. It in no way explains why we believe the unknown will follow the uniformly 
known — why facts which have been generalized from the past must necessarily hold good in 
the future. In this particular instance, the solution obviously rests upon some other ground 
than that of mere observation. We assert with confidence, that it is not likely that a 
species of men should be so monstrously constructed. We cannot admit the supposition for a 
moment. The decisive reason is, that men so formed could not perform the functions of men 
with any convenience or success ; that such a form would offend both the eye and the mind, 
and would be entirely incompatible with the ideal of beauty and convenience to which wo 
assume that nature would certainly conform. 
31 



482 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §483. 

8 481. Considerations of convenience and of adaptation , and 

Certain relations . „ , , , „ _ 

^priori must be even oi beauty and grace, then, go far toward deciding the 
question. They give that weight and force to those " single 
instances which in some cases are sufficient for a complete induction," and 
detract all force from " the myriads of concurring instances " in other di- 
rections. It must be on the ground of such relations assumed a priori to 
be true of the whole universe of being and to hold good of its properties, 
powers, and laws, that we proceed in all our judgments of induction. 
These direct the mind in interpreting her indications. These prompt to 
the questions which we ask of nature in our experiments. These suggest 
the hypotheses by which we account for phenomena. These confirm all 
the theories which we finally accept as true. 

8 482. It will be in place next to consider, what are some 

Natural to ask „ \ , «»%■•. , . , , . \ „ 

what truths are oi the truths or amrmations which the mmd assumes m all 
its inductions, and by which it regulates its processes of 
inquiry into the properties and laws of the physical universe ? We call 
these in the present stage of our discussion assumptions. We do not inrply 
by the use of this term that they are not valid and true, but that we must 
believe in their reality and binding force in order to believe in what they 
imply. They are styled assumptions to show that they are logically 
necessary to the process when analyzed into its elements. We need not here 
inquire whether they are all ultimate and original to the mind. It may 
be that some of them may be resolved into others, or may perhaps be 
shown to be the results of a process akin to induction. It is enough for 
our purpose to ascertain what are some of the conceptions and relations 
which are d priori to the ordinary processes of inductive inquiry. Some 
of them are as follows : 

§ 483. (1.) All the objects with which the mind concerns 
stance and attri- itself in its inductions, are known as substances and attributes. 
It is with the properties or attributes of matter and mind as 
exhibited through phenomena that these inquiries are exclusively occu- 
pied, whether they are known as qualities, powers, or relations. Beings 
are known to the philosopher by their attributes or relations. It is by 
these, that they are distinguished, classified, and named. It is the first 
effort of the mind to know the attributes which are essential to every ex- 
isting thing or agent. 

When any new substances, agents, or elements are discovered, as oxygen*, hydrogen, alu- 
minium, platinum, etc., they are known to be new by certain special properties. In induction 
proper, viewed as the interpretation of indications, the indicators or indicia are always properties 
or relations observed ; that indicated, or the indicata are properties inferred or believed. The 
form or the color of a fruit is the indicator : its taste, its nutritious or medicinal properties 
are indicated. 



§485. INDUCTIVE REASONING OR INDUCTION. 483 

§ 484. (2.) Induction assumes and implies the reality of the 
lation? 118 ° f ^^ causative energy ', as necessary to explain the origination 

of every begun existence, and of all occurring phenomena. 
Whether it investigates the powers of nature or the laws of nature, it pro- 
ceeds upon this as a necessary assumption. A power in any being or agent 
is its capacity to produce an effect under appropriate conditions and accord 
ing to definite laws. The power of heat to expand metals, of a burning- 
body to explode gunpowder, of oxygen to corrode metals, of the soul to 
know objects knowable, and to care for objects desirable ; all express and 
suppose one common relation, viz., the relation of an energy that is causa- 
tive of effects. 

That this relation is real, is assumed and implied in all our investigations into the unknown. 
This is true, if our inquiries respect the ascertainment of the unknown originator of a known 
effect, and result in the discovery of such elements as oxygen or hydrogen, or of such metals 
as potassium and aluminium, or of such agents as gravitation and electricity, or if we are still 
on the quest, and the cause or power sought for is not yet evolved. The same is true if our 
inquiries are directed to the determination of the precise conditions under which an ascer- 
tained cause produces a given effect, or the more definite statement of the relations — 
mathematical or otherwise — under which these conditions vary with a varying effect, as in 
the determination of the laws of gravitation, of chemical affinity, or of mental perception, 
association, desire, and volition. 

The reality of § 485# ( 3> ) Time and /Space, with the relations which they 
and 6 theV P reia' ^old *° ex tcnded objects and succeeding events, are also 
tions - assumed in induction. So also is the possibility of the mathe- 

matical constructions which are conditioned by Time and Space ; in other 
words, the reality and nature of geometrical and arithmetical quantities, 
their relations to one another and their varied applications to concrete ob- 
jects and phenomena. These are not only assumed, they are put in the 
fore-front of the whole scheme of modern inductive philosophy. The pro- 
cesses of mathematical investigation are made the models for all scientific 
investigation. The results are the instruments of measuring all physical 
forces and of formulating all physical laws. 

Gravitation was scarcely determined to be a force, till its mathematical relations were 
expressed in the law that it is a force varying inversely as the square of the distance. The 
laws of falling or projected bodies are expressed by means of the geometric curves in which 
they move, and by the numbers which describe their velocity. The pressure and flow of 
fluids are reduced to mathematical expressions. Chemical affinity is comprehended under the 
wide-reaching principle that different elements unite in definite numerical proportions, which 
has furnished the foundation for the modern chemical symbolization. The whole theory of 
astronomy is a combination of mechanics and applied geometry. Modern researches respect- 
ing light, electricity, and heat, have dared to propound the theory that all these are different 
modes of motion, the rates of whose vibrations determine these subtle and marvellously potent 
phenomena. They have at least demonstrated that the varying phenomena of these so-called 
forces or agents are attended by motions that can be made the test of their presence and the 
measure of their intensity. 

Indeed, so extensively have mathematical relations been applied in modern induction, that 



484 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §486. 

it has been gravely urged on the one hand that spiritual phenomena and forces can in no way 
come under the inquiries of science, because, forsooth, they cannot be subjected to mathe. 
matical relations, or, on the other, that they can and must be subjected to these relations in 
order that any science of spirit may exist: in other words, that Inductive Science, or 
.•my kind of science of nature is possible so far only as the phenomena of nature can be 
brought under mathematical relations, and the laws of nature can be expressed in mathe- 
matical formulae. 

8 486. (4.) Induction assumes that properties and laws which 

That some pro- , • . ,. i '■ • "•/» r -i i •• • 

perties indicate are known, indicate and signify other powers ana laws : that m 

others. , . ' . . , -, . , ', \ 

these indications nature is honest and open in her dealings 
with man ; in other words, that she is consistent with herself, or uniform in 
her methods of revealing or suggesting what man is prompted to interpret 
or explain. For example, we judge that a certain form or appearance in 
a fruit indicates a certain flavor ; that a particular aspect of stem and 
branches signifies a habifc of leaf and fruit ; that a given expression of 
countenance betokens a peculiar disposition or temper in man or beast ; 
that striking similarities of attributes in metals indicate a similarity in their 
being oxydized; that obvious and pervading similarities in phenomena 
prove that electricity in the earth is the same agent as the cause of light- 
ning in the heavens ; that the same power which is pervasive enough to af- 
fect bodies near the earth, is probably or at least possibly — in part or solely 
— the power which holds the moon in its changing path around the earth. 

It is plainly supposable that these indications were not at all worthy to be trusted ; that 
the same appearance which in one fruit indicates the bitter, in another indicates the sweet ; 
that the expression and tones which in one man indicate wrath, in another manifest love. In 
like manner we might suppose that each class of objects, whether material or spiritual, ap- 
propriated certain signs which it shared with no other, so that the signs of oxygenation, or 
electric agency, in one species or sort, though uniformly observed within its own particular 
sphere, were not shared by any other. In the first case, we could not interpret nature at all, 
for every interpretation of the unknown by the known would be capricious, and we could 
not judge of a single individual by another. In the second case, we could not extend our 
judgments, though valid in one class, to any other. 

The Tmiformitv ^ * s ^ m P^ e ^ m tne honesty or, which is equivalent, in the 
of the powers significance or interpretability of nature that she is also uni- 

and laws of na- ° ... 

ture. form, or self-consistent with herself from time to time ; or in 

other words, that her laws and methods are permanent. 

The same indications which she offers to-day she will use and follow to-morrow. The same 
laws which she reveals as established at one time she will conform to to-morrow, so long as 
the present system remains, or the reasons for sustaining it hold good. In other words, in- 
duction requires that we assume that nature will be constant and uniform in her agencies, 
operations, and laws ; and in her methods of making these known to the mind of the inquirer 
into her secrets. 

It might here be asked. Wiry do we believe this to be true? 

ground of fuch Is this assumption groundless and ultimate, or is it founded 

upon some reason ? One reason might occur to us, that 



§ 487. INDUCTIVE REASONING OR INDUCTION. 485 

otherwise we could not know or interpret nature at all. If nature were 
not thus honest and uniform, the human mind could have no knowledge 
except of individual things, or the knowledge acquired to-day could not 
be relied on for to-morrow, as in the meanwhile the operations and indi- 
cations of nature might both be changed. 

But it might still be replied, What necessity is there that we know and generalize ? or 
more broadly, By what right do we presume that the objective universe is so constructed that 
the human mind may know it? We say, 'If it were not so, it would not be adapted to the 
mind. The mind would feel impulses and use activities which would find no corresponding 
objects. It would be impelled to modes of action in generalizing, interpreting, in explaining 
and forecasting, to which there would be no corresponding realities. It would find itself per- 
petually at fault, in perpetual disappointment and bewilderment. This is not supposable, such 
a constant failure of adaptation between the objective in nature and the subjective in the soul.' 
If this answer is appropriate or valid, it suggests another assumption, viz. : 

§ 487. (5.) Nature adapts objects and powers to certain ends. 
rules Mature? I n other words, physical forces are regulated and controlled 

by design. The application already made shows that this 
principle is assumed. It will be still more clearly manifest from the fol- 
lowing examples. When Copernicus proposed to himself to try whether, 
on the supposition of the earth's motion, it was possible to find a better ex- 
planation of the revolutions of the celestial orbs than those currently 
received from the ancients, we ask what he would conceive to be a better 
explanation, and find an answer to our own question, in the reasons which led 
him to prefer his own. These reasons were, that his theory secured greater 
simplicity and symmetry to the mechanism of the heavens, and explained 
the apparent positions and motions of the heavenly bodies by a neater, a 
more easily conceived, a more symmetrical construction, than the older 
theory furnished. But why is a neater and more symmetrical theory to 
be preferred ? Because it is better adapted, to satisfy the mind of man, — 
because this mind thus reflects, were I to provide for the motions and 
appearances of the heavenly bodies, with given materials, viz., force, mo- 
tion, etc., I should hold and move these bodies by the simplest possible 
arrangement of motions, and the most economical disposition of forces. 

Newton, reflecting on the force of gravity, inquires within himself, ' Why may not the 
force which extends beyond the tops of the highest mountains also extend as far as the 
moon, and why may she not be retained in her orbit thereby ? ' His own question implied 
the answer : ' if this single force, known to exist, would explain the movements of the solar 
system, it is more rational to believe that this is the actual force than to adopt any other 
explanation.' This involves the assumption of a wise adaptation to the designed effects of the 
force or forces conceived to be at command. It is by a reference to the same assumption 
that we explain the general laws of philosophizing which Newton has laid down. The rule 
that real and sufficient causes of phenomena are to be taken to explain phenomena, whether it 
is or is not interpreted as coming under the more general law of parsimony, is only an enun- 
ciation of the truth that if an element, or force, already known to exist, can be employed to 
evolve, produce, or accomplish an effect, no new force will be provided or is to be supposed. 



486 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §489. 

If we ask upon what this assumption rests, we reply, that any other arrangement would bf 
had economy — an unwise adaptation of means to ends. 

Thus underlying the entire structure of the inductive method, 
Sapta§on. ea ° f we ^ n ^ tne assumption of a twofold adaptation in nature ; 

first, of the several parts or forces to one another, and second, 
of the indications of nature to the mind that interprets them. But if we 
assume that nature thus adapts her forces to ends and also that the human 
mind is competent to discern these ends and to interpret nature by her 
skill and success in wisely accomplishing them, we must assume — 

8 488. (6.) That the human intellect in induction, -judges the 

Similarity of the ° V ' ,, ., . „ _ «■.,.---■„. 

human and di- structure and adaptations of nature by referring to what it 

vine intellect. ... . , T 

would itself consider to be rational and wise. In other 
words, induction assumes that the rational methods of the divine and hu- 
man intellect are similar, and that the human intellect is therefore capable 
of judging of the principles and aims by which the universe was con- 
structed and its laws can be known. More briefly expressed, induction is 
only possible on the assumption that the intellect of man is a reflex of the 
Divine Intellect ; or that man is made in the image of God. 

This will be made more apparent, if we consider more fully the rules of inductive inquiry, 
and the relation of experiment to theory. 

§ 489. The so-called rules or methods of induction are three : 
o?fndu r c e tion U]es ^ ne metnoa * 0I> agreement, the method of difference, and the 

method of concomitant variations. They are briefly stated 
as follows : (1.) If in all cases of an effect or phenomenon, one condition is 
uniformly present, that is the cause or includes the cause of such a phenom- 
enon or effect. (2.) If, in any instance in which an effect does occur, 
one single condition is present, which is uniformly absent whenever such 
effect does not occur, this constantly present or absent condition is 
presumed to be its cause. (3.) If, whenever an effect or phenomenon is 
marked with peculiar energy, any condition varies with proportional 
intensity, this varying condition is the cause of such an effect. 

Properly conceived, these are rules for testing or proving 
These are rules inductions, or rules for experiment : they cast no li^ht upon 

lor experiment. ' .,.,.,. . 

that which is most essential in the inductive process. An 
experiment is a nice analysis or observation, made for an express design. 
Analysis, i. e., discriminating attention, is the condition of all observation 
of qualities and causes. It begins with sensible perception, and without 
it, generalization and classification are impossible. The analysis used in 
induction differs from this only in being directed to those properties 
and laws which are less obvious, and often guides in a special search 
for those which the senses cannot directly detect, but which the mind 
divines. 



§491. INDUCTIVE SEASONING OE INDUCTION. 48* 

The rules for this search are not different in fact from those which the sim 
R 1 t" n of the e P* er inductions °f common sense and of common life require and employ, 
rules to common It is only because the relations upon which they are employed are less obvious, 

and the discriminations are more difficult, that these rules need to be dis« 

tinctly considered and formally applied, and that the formal recognition oi 
,hem by Bacon and Newton contributed so largely to the advance of modern science. 

They are methods of experiment ; i. e., as already explained, of analysis, with 
They presup- the design of testing a theory, hypothesis, or suggestion. These, from the 
esff or h sugges" nature of tne case > must S° before the trial. In the majority of instances the 
tion. question must be put before the answer is elicited. The experimenter 

upon nature must come to her with his question formed and the answer 
anticipated, before he applies the methods of agreement and difference. Lord Bacon says 
abundantly that it is the prudens qucestio, or the wisely-suggested question, which directs the 
experiment to an anticipated result, and which very often predicts the result before it is 
actually established or proved. 

§ 490. If now, the question suggests and guides the experi- 
the hypothesis me nt, and if the anticipation predicts the fulfilment, we ask, 

or prudens _^ 7 x x 7 ' 

quxstio. What suggests the question? What are the grounds on 

which, or the methods by which the mind forms its anticipations ? "When, 
for example, Newton anticipated in thought the solution of the motions 
of the solar system by gravity, or Davy anticipated that he could bring 
out from the brown and earthy potash the brilliant potassium, what were 
the grounds upon which and the rules after which their minds proceeded ? 
The question may be more generally stated : What are the conditions of 
successful invention and discovery f 

To this question many would reply, ' No answer can be given. The power 

to read the secrets of nature is a gift of nature. To think of the pertinent 
Some say no an- . ,,.. . . <... 

swer can be giv- question, to apply the happy and decisive experiment, is a matter of indi- 
vidual sagacity, with which one person is more richly endowed than an- 
other, and the secret reasons or processes of which can neither be imparted 
nor explained. We know that it can be improved by exercise; that it can be formed 
and^developed into tact and skill; but what are the methods by which exercise can form or 
maxure it, is quite beyond the reach or power of analysis to trace out or describe.' There is 
some truth in this view, though not to the full extent of this representation. Analysis can at 
least separate and describe the' essential elements of the process, and can so far describe the 
conditions of successful achievement. 

„, . 8491.(1.) The first condition is, that the attention be directed 

The attention o V ' 

must be familiar to the class of obi ects and powers already known, which 

with the objects. / ^ \ mi t 

are to indicate and suggest the unknown. JLne discoveries 
of science are founded upon powers and relations which are overlooked 
by the great majority even of cultivated men. The sagacity which we 
seek to explain, is always exercised in respect to that subject-matter to 
which the discoverer has given special attention, and with the peculiari- 
ties of which he has become specially familiar. The chemical discoverei 
is a chemist. The discoverer in physics is a student of physics. As we 
have observed already, Franklin had become familiarly acquainted with 



iS8 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 493. 

electricity and lightning by long-continued attention to the phenomena 
of both before he thought of their identity. It was not till Newton had 
meditated long and frequently on the forces of the universe, that he was 
in a condition in which it was possible for him to anticipate the theory 
of universal gravitation. Davy must, of necessity, he familiar with all 
the chemical facts already ascertained, in order to conjecture the unknown 
base of potash. It is plain, that if the philosopher is to interpret indica- 
tions, he must first observe and attend to them. 

It is almost superfluous to suggest that men differ in the original power and the acquired 
habits of attentive observation. These differences are apparent in respect to objects of univer- 
sal interest and of common life. They are more conspicuous in regard to the mastery over 
the less familiar and less obvious objects with which science has to do. As attention and 
consequent familiarity are or are not attained, so is there present or absent the first condition 
of success. 

§ 492. (2.) The objects must not only be attended to, but 

The relations of ° v ' J , , -»-i ' i 

objects must be also their relations. The one involves the other. I or the 

attended to. . _, „ .. 

purposes 01 knowledge and especially oi science relations 
are all-important. The relations most important to science are those 
of likeness or unlikeness leading to classification, the relations of num- 
ber and magnitude which are the conditions of mensuration, the rela- 
tions of causation and design which are employed in reasoning. These 
must be attended to, closely observed and familiarly considered. 

In respect to the power of apprehending relations with facility and success, men differ 
greatly. In simple judgments of comparison one man discerns similar and dissimilar quali- 
ties, when another can discern neither likeness nor difference. Likenesses and unlikenesses 
of form are likewise detected by the quick eye of one man which can scarcely be made 
apparent to the slower and less acute observation of another. To whatever causes these 
differences of power may be ascribed, whether to a finer sensuous organization, or a more 
refined and discerning spiritual nature, the fact cannot be doubted that they exist. In dis- 
criminating causes and effects, in suggesting designs and ends, there are surprising differences 
in the acuteness, the quickness, and the comprehensiveness of the powers of different men. 
These are, in part to be ascribed to training and opportunities, in part to the interest or 
necessity which enforces the application and the energetic action of the powers, and, in part, to 
original aptitudes and capacities. It is not surprising that for observing those less obvious 
relations with which science is concerned, there should be still wider differences of capacity, 
both original and acquired, and that there should follow as a consequence most obvious differ- 
ences in different persons in the familiarity attained with these special relations. 

Both ob" cts and § ^ 3# ( 3- ) ^ ne nex * con dition of success is an acquired 
relations must familiarity with the relations which exist between signs and 
the mind. things signified within any special sphere of observation or 

scientific inquiry. The florist marks indications in flowers which are un- 
meaning to other persons, and learns to connect them with what they 
indicate. The cultivator of fruits has the same experience with fruits. 
The sportsman alone learns by experience to understand the significance of 
certain actions of his game. The keen and discerning eye in every depart- 



§ 494. INDUCTIVE REASONING OR INDUCTION. 48S 

raent is trained by what it is accustomed to, and gains some definite im- 
pressions in respect to the methods of nature in accomplishing her objects 
and in indicating her powers and laws. The devotee of any special sci 
ence soon gains a familiarity with the movements of nature within his 
own special sphere. He enters, so to speak, into her spirit. 

The literal import of this language is as follows : The physicist and chemist, the botanist 
and geologist, become by degrees impressed with the conviction that some properties are fai 
more prevalent than others ; that they are very often present and manifest ; that certain com 
binations of elements and agencies are, so to speak, favorites with nature. Certain powers are 
very limited in their application, and of course are manifest in a small number of phenomena. 
Others show themselves in a great variety of existences, and explain a vast number of phe- 
nomena. We need only compare gravity with its 1 laws as universally applicable to all material 
things, and the law by which a certain compound of oxygen and hydrogen becomes explosive. 
Just as far as discovery or experience proceed, just so far do they mark off certain powers and 
laws as more, and others as less extensive. This is the simple result of experience often re- 
peated in respect to a sufficient variety of cases ; this experience matures into familiarity with 
what may be called the preferences, or favorite methods, according to which nature conducts 
her processes and manifests her powers 

It is obvious that in respect to the power of attaining familiarity of acquaintance with this 
class of relations by experience or observation, there is likely to be greater variety than 
in respect to acuteness of observation, energy of attention, or readiness of comparison. Men 
differ very greatly in respect to the insight which they gain into relations of this sort. The 
results are not of a nature to be expressed in language. There is no common vehicle for giving 
and imparting impressions of this kind. Hence greater original or acquired power to observe 
such relations, is esteemed more of an individual possession. It is regarded as a gift, a 
secret, an inspiration, an incommunicable and inexplicable attainment. 

The construe- § 494. (4.) The next step towards discovery is the use of 
nnfst'beempioj? tne constructive imagination. All the steps previously con- 
ed - sidered are steps or acts of experience. They are employed 

upon the facts already established by observation or tested by experiment. 
The act now considered is an act of mental construction or combination. It 
relates to facts as supposed, or conceived to be possible or probable by 
the mind % The objects, relations, and methods of nature being all mastered 
by quick and attentive observation, must be marshalled by the memory 
and placed at the service of the imagination to re-arrange and re-combine. 

Let a complex substance be presented for that analysis in thought which precedes the test 
of experiment : or let some unexplained phenomenon be proposed to be accounted for. The 
first effort is to bring up in the imagination every known element or agent, and to ask which 
is more likely to be the one which we require. Or if none that are known will meet the 
exigency, what unknown element or agent — and acting by what laws — may be supposed to 
solve the problem. 

To be able to answer these questions the memory must be quick to suggest all 
The memory the powers and agents that are known in all the relations which we have con- 
cious and ready, sidered. There is a vast difference in men in respect to the range and sweep 

and readiness of the memory when the memory is called on to give up ita 
treasures ; as we have had occasion to notice. But the presence or absence of a single essen- 
tial fact may determine the question whether a discovery shall or shall not be made. The 



490 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §494. 

failure to recall one single thought which might have been suggested, one actual combination of 
cause and effect or sign and thing signified, one more or less extensive and favorite agency 
or law of nature, may withhold from the judgment the very material which is essential to a 
sagacious conjecture. 

To a successful issue it is not merely, perhaps not chiefly, essential that the mind be able 
to judge aright upon facts and data presented. It must have the capacity to think of them 
and to present them when they are wanted. Hence the greatest importance to the skilful 
inventor or the sagacious discoverer, of ready and comprehensive associations, or what is 
more usually termed a lively and productive fancy. 

\ q u i c k and Sagacity in discovery may be as much dependent upon 
recall and^on- tne P ower quickly to recall one's knowledge or observations 
struct. Accident. m fa e p as t as upon an v other endowment or acquired power. 
The man of ready suggestions, the man fertile in expedients, the man 
quick in devices, is, — other things being equal, — the man who is saga- 
cious and skilful in discovery and experiment. 

It is not enough, however, that the memory suggests all that she has 
gathered, unless the imagination reconstructs and recombines in relations 
as yet untried and unknown. Here is the widest room for individual 
activity. The imagination takes all the materials at its command, all the 
powers and agents which are known to exist, with their laws and rela- 
tions, and connects them with one another and with all known effects and 
phenomena in new methods. It makes these combinations for one sole 
end, not to amuse or entertain, not to explain or illustrate, not to con- 
vince, instruct, or to persuade, but simply to conjecture or devise what 
is best adapted to meet the exigency. 

What is called accident, too, combines with memory at times to deter- 
mine a great discovery in science, or a grand invention in the arts. The 
Marquis of Worcester happens to see the rising and falling of the cover 
of a teakettle, and forthwith he commences a course of speculation in re- 
spect to the laws of the agent which furnished the force ; and thus sets in 
motion the course of discovery which has given to science and art 
steam power with all its applications. 

Goodyear, the sagacious and persevering investigator into the properties and uses of 
caoutchouc or India-rubber, had long inquired after some agent in nature which would 
remove from the substance in question its special sensibility to cold and heat, and make it in 
effect a new material. He discovered this long-desired agent in the most casual way. 
*' In one of those animated conversations so habitual to him, in reference to his experiments, 
a piece of India-rubber combined with sulphur, which he held in his hand as the text of all 
his discourses, was by a violent gesture thrown into a burning stove near which he was stand- 
ing. When taken out, after having been subjected to a high degree of heat, he saw — what it 
may be safely affirmed woidd have escaped the notice of all others — that a complete transforma- 
tion had taken place, and that an entirely new product, since so felicitously termed ' new 
metal ' was the consequence." Decision of the U. 8. Commissioner of Patents. 

But thousands and tens of thousands of men had observed the same phenomenon which 
attracted the attention and excited the inquiries of the Marquis of Worcester. His previous 
knowledge of science and his familiar acquaintance with scientific relations alone enabled him 



§ 495. INDUCTIVE SEASONING OK INDUCTION. 491 

to turn this knowledge to a use of discovery. The promptness and range with which the 
associative faculty avails itself of such an incident decide the question whether it shall be 
received as a productive seed or whether it shall fall upon the barren rock or the parched 
sand. The eye of Goodyear was quickened by the watching and waiting of years to that 
sagacity which was able to see in the piece of refuse rubber casually discharged from the fire, 
an answer to the question with which his mind had so long been burdened. 

The curiosity of the investigator is also a most important 
ity must bepre- condition of failure or success, ibr it determines whether or 

not the intellect shall be effectively applied to the objects 
and relations which alone prepare the way for new knowledge. Perse- 
verance and tenacity hold the attention and the memory to the question 
which may have been started ; they task the memory to give up all 
its past acquisitions. 

The peculiarities of character and of tastes which fit a man to be a successful investigator, 
act through the intellect, by giving it energy of action, and range of appropriate objects. 
The best stored and readiest memory can only furnish the materials upon which the mind is to 
act in judgment. The constructive imagination can only combine these materials after every 
conceivable method which promises aid or light in discovery. The most important step yet 
remains, and that is the act of framing an hypothesis, of constructing a theory, or of devising 
the question which may be most wisely addressed to nature. 

a wise judg- §495. (5.) This leads us to the judgments formed and pref- 
^fd^Tetwetn' erences given in respect to the various possible suppositions 
hypotheses. which the imagination suggests or devises. The conditions 

previously described being all fulfilled, the materials being all provided 
and present, i. e., all the like and unlike substances and phenomena, and 
all the powers, properties and laws that could possibly be resorted to for 
the analysis or explication being marshalled by and before the imagi- 
nation ; the reason then judges which power or agency of all gives the most 
satisfactory solution and is most probably true. 

But by what standard does it judge ? What are the 
By what stand- groun( j s of satisfaction and the tests of probability? The 

history of Induction shows that these differ in different 
cases. Sometimes the known existence of some agent or law or its 
very extensive prevalence in the economy of nature is the deciding cir- 
cumstance in its favor. We always assume that nature works the most 
diverse effects by the fewest possible elements or forces. Sometimes it is 
what is loosely termed analogy. 

"We ask how close or near is the resemblance to the substance or event in hand. But 
likeness and unlikeness pertain to very different qualities and relations ; sometimes to those 
which affect the senses immediately, as the eye and the touch, sometimes to those which are 
more remote from direct apprehension, as to mechanical or chemical effects or mathematical 
relations. Which analogies shall be decisive in such cases is determined by the importance at. 
tached to each in the general or the special economy of nature, or by what is called the con 
gruity with her methods in similar departments. 



492 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §49? 

§ 496. In the application of these and of similar criteria the 
peaiftoiSif P " mte ^ ect appeals, so to speak, to itself. The interpreter of 

nature continually asks himself thus : Given, certain ele- 
ments, powers, and laws, how should I indicate them ? or how should I 
apply them ? Having followed certain methods of employing or in 
dicating them in other substances and phenomena, how should I be most 
consistent with myself in producing or manifesting other agents and 
events ? Or, in the reverse order : Given, certain ends, effects, and phenom- 
ena, which of the known forces at command would a rational being em- 
ploy for this or that object, if he aimed at an orderly and intelligible, or a 
beautiful universe ? Or, if no one of the forces known is adequate to explain 
the effects or phenomena, what unknown force or element is required to 
account for them, so as best to fulfil their objects, and what must be the 
properties and what the laws of such an agent ? 

The language so often used, that man is the interpreter of nature, that nature has her methods, 
her economies, and her favorite ways, implies that in all these judgments, there is a belief in 
the constructive or arranging processes of another mind. Even those who insist that we may 
not assume that there are ends or designs to be interpreted, constantly employ such language. 
But all inductive philosophers do assume this in their theories, their surmises, and anticipa- 
tions; in every prudens gueestio which they propound. The more gifted acknowledge it 
distinctly, and assert that they commune with the spirit of nature, and that nature whispers 
to them often of her secrets. 

§497. When Kepler exclaims, " OGodf I think thy thoughts 
Kepler's saying, after thee f " — when Agassiz catches and repeats the same 

sentiment, in asserting that all just and thorough classifica- 
tion is but an interpretation of the thoughts of the Creator ', they simply 
express in definite language the grand assumption on which every saga- 
cious anticipation or happy theory is founded, viz., that the rational 
methods of the Divine and human intellect must be the same. This, of 
course, includes the assumption, without which the principles, maxims, 
and methods of the inductive philosophy have no meaning and no foun- 
dation, viz., that the universe of matter and mind has its ground and 
explanation in an intelligent originator. In other words, Induction 
rests upon the assumption, as it demands for its ground, that a personal 
or thinking Deity exists. 

It follows that the most sucessful theorist and the most sagacious questioner of 
Who is the most nature is the man who takes the wisest views of her indication by appropriate 
pretcro f ?nature? signs, of her economy in the use of given forces, and of her adaptation to the 

ends of harmony, beauty, and perhaps of beneficence ; and who has been most 
accustomed to reflect upon the actual methods by which these various workings of nature are 
accomplished in varying cases, as in mechanical effects, chemical combinations, vital forces, 
and spiritual endowments. He is the wisest interpreter of nature, who through nature has 
entered most intimately into the thoughts of God. 



§499. INDUCTIVE SEASONING OR INDUCTION. 493 

§ 498. (6.) To success in induction, the power of sure 
The capacity of an d rea< %y deduction is also essential. The real nature and 

ready deduction. « / 

reach of any theory which is suggested by the memory or 
constructed by the imagination, cannot be understood until the most im- 
portant consequences and applications are derived from it in the form of 
conclusions. The law of gravitation was no sooner suggested to the 
imagination of Newton, in the question, l why not,' and sanctioned by the 
approving answer, ' it is very probably true / ' than the additional thought, 
' if so, what follows,' put him upon the act of deduction. 

Whatever may be suggested or approved, whether it be the further extension of a power 
already known to exist, or the existence of an unknown agent, or the prevalence or the more 
exact determination of a new law, the deduction of the consequences that would follow is 
often indispensable to enable the mind to judge of the probable truth of the proposition 
which the mind entertains, and always to prepare the mind to compare it with actual fact. 
For it is obvious that not only the supposition itself, but the consequences which follow, must 
both square with the reality of thiDgs in order that the truth of the theory may in fact be 
established. 

The power of wide -reaching, sure and rapid deduction, is an important element in the 
qualifications of the successful discoverer. A severe training in the discipline of the Syllogistic 
Logic, and the linked demonstrations of Geometry, as also in the subtle calculations of 
Numbers, is an admirable if not an essential preparation for success in discovery. 

The experiment § 499# C 7 *) ^ ast °^ a ^ comes tne experiment, which tests the 
its place and theory, however sagaciously it may have been conjectured ; 

importance. "' ° •> J " 

which answers the question, however ingeniously it may 
have been proposed. Though we must assume that the methods of the 
divine and the human intellect are the same, yet we must concede that 
the elements and powers, the laws and methods of the universe, i. e., the 
thoughts of the Creator, are, as yet, known to the created intellect only 
to a limited extent. 

We may presume that those which are most obtrusive, perhaps that those which are the 
most general have been mastered by modern science, and yet must concede that we have not 
penetrated all the secrets of nature. Nor are we qualified to pronounce d priori upon what 
is true or false without submitting our judgment to the test of experiment. Even of the facts 
which have been observed and known we are not always sure that we have considered all in 
all their relations at the moment when our theory was constructed. We bring the judgments 
founded upon these limited data to the revisal of the Infinite Mind as he is manifested 
through his works. We question nature whether our thoughts correspond with her own. 
We revise and correct the answers which we have devised by the decided responses which 
our experiments elicit. 

Experiment, as has been already defined, is another name for observation 
Relation of ex- employed with a definite design. The design is usually to try or test whether 
observation. our theory or suggestion is made good. The special rules or methods of 

experiment are, as has already been stated, no other than rules for a nicer and 
more careful observation than we ordinarily employ for the uses of common life. They hold 
the same relation to this observation which the employment of instruments and apparatus 
does to the use of the unaided and " unarmed " senses. They inculcate the necessity of look 



494 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §500. 

ing narrowly at every phenomenon, of measuring the force of every energy, of discriminating 
every shade of difference, and of separating carefully every element. 

While, then, on the one hand, man, in constructing his wise question- 
ings and in framing his theories, may claim a likeness to God ; in submitting 
his theories to the task of experiment, he concedes his inferiority. Indeed, 
every act of experiment is a confession of human limitations. Rightly 
conceived, it is an act of reverent worship. 

8 500. It was for giving prominence to this part of the in- 

Lord Bacon's ° . , T -• t» ■. •-.,,., 

eminent servi- ductive process that .Lord .Bacon has received such high and 
merited honor as the expounder of the inductive method. It 
was because he insisted upon the necessity of a constant and close observa- 
tion of the facts of nature, and enjoined the duty of careful and reiterated 
experiments, as well as prescribed the rules and methods for prosecuting 
the same, that he was called the Father of Experimental Philosophy. 

He did not overlook nor undervalue the other elements of the process which we have 
noticed. He recognized them more or less distinctly. There was no special need that they 
should be enforced in his own time. The Philosophy of the Schools paid sufficient homage to 
hypothesis, however much it may have failed to understand its nature or to analyze its 
processes. But experiments upon nature had not been understood, nor had it entered fully 
into the minds of men to inquire what were the rules for conducting them wisely and with 
success. It certainly had not at all entered into their thoughts to imagine or anticipate how 
much there was to be learned by this method, how vast a store of secrets was concealed for 
man's exploration, nor how the discovery of one property and law was to prepare the way for 
the discovery of another. 

The anticipation of what was in store for man, through the wise applica- 
tion of the methods of experiment ; and the confident and eloquent assertion 
of the splendid consequences which were sure to follow, constitute Bacon's 
special claim to distinction, and mark him pre-eminently as one of the most 
gifted benefactors of his race, and one of the greatest men of any period. 



CHAPTER IX. 

SCIENTIFIC AEEANGEMENT. — THE SYSTEM. 

We have already considered the several processes of objective or concrete thinking, and the 
products which they evolve. In other words, we have examined the processes which are 
usually recognized as being involved in the formation and the application of the concept 
or notion, viz., analysis ; generalization ; classification ; judgment, in the two forms of 
definition and division ; and reasoning, by deduction and induction — giving us, as their 
products, the concept ; the class ; the proposition ; the argument ; and the principle or 
law. It remains for us to consider, briefly, the combination of these several processes in 
a final result or product. The process may be called scientific arrangement, and the prod. 



§504, SCIENTIFIC ARRANGEMENT. THE SYSTEM. 495 

uct, the system. Most of the principles essential to this exposition have been so fully 
vindicated and illustrated in the preceding chapters, that we need only re-state them in 
this in brief propositions. 

8 501. Scientific arrangement or method may be defined in 

f he simplest ex- , , . _ . _ . '. , m 

ample of a sys- general, as the gathering 01 individual objects into a syn- 
thetic whole, by any one of the analyses and generalizations of 
thought. When any number of such objects are united into such a whole, 
that whole may, in a certain sense, be called a system. 

Thus, even the smallest number of individual objects, when grouped as one product bj 
being included under a single notion, may, in a certain sense, be said to be arranged into 
a system. 

This is not, however, the usual signification of the term. We employ it in this sense 
simply to call attention to the truth, that the process of classification is the beginning of 
systemization. This is the first condition or step of the synthetic process which terminates in 
the system proper. 

8 502. Inasmuch as every concept has the two relations of 

A notion ap- .... 

plied in its con- extent or content either dormant or developed, that arrange- 
ment of individual objects in these two directions which 
follows from the application to them of both the content and the extent 
of a notion is more properly a system. 

When several notions of a more or less comprehensive content, or a more or less widely 
applicable extent, are used to define and divide the individual objects to which they apply, 
these objects are brought into a system ; or the mind is said to take a systematic view of their 
several properties, and to class them as mutually related to one another. Their properties 
are seen to be more or less extensively the same ; the classes in which they are grouped or 
gathered are said to be higher or lower, and the several classes are arranged into a hierarchy or 
a subordinated whole. 

Inasmuch, also, as every concept results from, represents, and may be 
expanded into, its proposition; the propositions of content and extent 
express, when properly arranged, the systematic arrangement or method 
of the objects to which these propositions can be applied. 
Notions which § 503 * Every concept, as well as every proposition that 
S at prop e e r rties respectively defines and divides and thus arranges and 
or laws. subordinates the objects to which each belong, indicates or 

suggests some property or power or law of the beings to which they are 
applied. Every name of a thing indicates that it belongs to some perma- 
nent class, and is possessed of properties that are fixed in the designs, 
and are perpetuated by the laws of nature. The most important proposi- 
tions of definition and division simply expand and apply these permanent 
properties and laws. 

when establish- § 504 « The less obvious but more important of these 
ana^ppued^in properties and laws are those which are discovered by indue- 
deduction. tion, applied in deduction, and verified by experiment 

and observation after the methods and on the grounds which have been 



496 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 507 

explained. When so discovered, and applied, and established, they are 
used to explain or account for the less obvious events and phenomena in 
the universe of matter and of spirit. But the properties, principles, and 
laws which are thus inferred in induction, applied by deduction, and 
verified by tests of fact, — as they are respectively established, — serve to 
define and divide the beings and events which they concern, by notions 
that are constituted of more refined elements, and that divide beings into 
more comprehensive and significant classes. The principles on which 
scientific systems are founded, are more profound and wide-reaching thaD 
those which direct the classifications of common life. 

8 505. Scientific arrangement and systemization, — the con- 

Properties which. u -_._._ 

explain and pre- cepts and terms, — are applied with preeminent propriety to 

diet phenomena. . x . _, . . xx . . " . _ _ _ r r J 

the methodical arrangement which is founded and effected 
by these more recondite properties and more extensive laws. Such prop- 
erties and laws are said preeminently to explain the operations of nature, 
and to enable man to predict phenomena, as well as to control events and 
results by art or skill. 

scientific system § 506 - Scientific method or system may be applied to a 
widely °a P pi£- narrower or wider range of beings or events, and may be 
ble - founded on generalizations which are narrower and wider, or 

on inductions which are more or less profound. They may include a single 
kingdom of organic or inorganic existences, or may embrace all material 
things. They may define and arrange these according to the more obvious 
properties and laws which are open to common observation, or may 
employ those properties which appear to hasty observation to be very 
remote, and which are reached only by the most sagacious conjectures, 
and the most skilful experiments. They may include the domain of 
spirit only, or extend to the kingdoms of both matter and spirit, and 
arrange the two domains by the properties and laws which can be estab- 
lished as common to the two. 

§ 507. Systematic arrangement and scientific method are 
straet concepts freely applied to abstracta, or those artificial products which 

are the creations of the human intellect ; to those concepts 
which law, ethics, theology, politics, and political economy familiarly 
employ, as well as to those abstract forms and rules which grammar, logic, 
and the mathematics prescribe. But a system of terms, definitions, rules, 
and principles, when so applied, is always justified and defined by a refer- 
ence to the concrete examples and existing beings, from which the 
concepts are derived, and by which the principles are tested. 

The attempt has been made to arrange in systematic order and by a scientific method, the 
ultimate relations of knowledge itself; to subject to the subordination of higher and lower, 
of dependence and development, the original categories and first principles which make 
knowledge itself to be possible. Whether such an application of the desire for scientific 
method is possible, we are not yet in a condition to decide. We must reserve the answer to 
this question for our later researches. 



§508. THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMERATED. 487 



PART FOURTH. 

INTUITION AND INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE. 
CHAPTER I. 

THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMERATED. 

Hating finished, in Fart III., the analysis of the processes and products of thought, we 
proceed to consider the intuitions or original relations which these processes assume to 
be real and make conspicuous in all their products. These are not peculiar to thought, 
but are essential to all knowledge whatsoever. They are, however, made obvious and 
prominent in the thought-processes. They are forced upon our notice by the analysis 
of these processes, and thus challenge our scrutiny. Inasmuch, too, as they must be general- 
ized from all our intellectual activities, the consideration of them is properly deferred till 
they demand our attention. In conducting these inquiries we enter upon the critical 
stage of our investigations, at which the mind, having studied its operations in the way 
of scientific reflection, turns in upon itself, and inquires whether the relations which 
its scientific study assumes, are themselves trustworthy ? whether, in other words, the 
human intellect may confine in the very operations which it is impelled to perform ? 
This analysis is difficult, but full of excitement to all those who are fascinated with the 
inquiries that have to do with the mysteries of their being, and the grounds and limits 
of human knowledge. 

Our first inquiries respect the general relations -of these intuitions, and the methods 
by which they can be ascertained, etc., etc., as introductory to the consideration of them 
in detail. 

§ 508. Our analysis of the process of induction has shown 

Certain assnrap- ...... , . ., ,.\ ■• „ 

tions implied in us that it involves several assumptions, viz. : the reality oi 
the distinction of substance and attribute ; of the causative 
relation ; of time and space, and the relations they . involve ; of unifor- 
mity in the indications and operations of nature ; and of the adaptation 
of the beings and powers of nature to certain ends. § § 482-488. Upon 
these assumptions the entire process of induction rests, and upon their 
validity is founded its trustworthiness. 

We have seen, also, that all the other processes of knowledge involve or 

Also in the other i m ply more or fewer of these same assumptions. In sense-perception, we 

processes oi 

knowledge. assume the reality of space and time, and the relations of material objects 

to space ; and in consciousness, some relation of the psychical acts and affections 
to time and to the ego. In the varied forms of representative or reproduced knowledge, the 
reality of time is assumed as the condition of the relation of the representing to the repre- 
sented object ; whether the object is exactly transcribed or copied from the original, or 
whether it is varied by a creative process. In the various processes of thought or intelli- 
32 



498 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 509. 

gence, these same assumptions are implied. Without them, as we have seen, generalization, 
judgment, and reasoning would be impossible. 

The very conception and definition of knowledge imply the same. Knowledge 
Also in the defi- has been defined as the apprehension of being and its relations (§§ 48, 49). 
cdge. n ° ° W " The possibility and the validity of the process suppose the reality of certain 

beings, and the truth of certain relations. It implies, also, that there are 
certain relations to be known which are original, and the truth and validity of which must be 
assumed as the groundwork or foundation of all our knowledge. We may analyze what is 
complex, in both being and its relations, into what is simple. What is less, may be resolved 
into what is more general ; but the relations which cannot be resolved into others, must be 
received as original axioms or assumptions. 

§ 509. What these assumptions are, we are impelled to con- 
the critical stage sider and inquire. Thus far we have inquired what are the 
processes and products of knowledge, when the power to 
know is employed upon its appropriate conditions or objects in the form 
of direct and objective activity. We are now to turn the power in 
upon itself; to inquire what are the relations which it intuitively 
discerns, and necessarily assumes. We enter upon the last and highest 
stage of our inquiries — which is properly called the critical or the specula- 
tive. We proceed to examine the power of knowledge, not for the 
purpose of ascertaining what it can perform or produce, but what its 
processes involve and assume, and to ask whether what are assumed may be 
trusted in themselves and in their applications. , 

This critical analysis of the power of knowledge is the last and 
highest form of the mind's activity, because it supposes the complete 
development and discipline of all the other powers. The mind must be 
trained to analyze every thing besides, before it can successfully analyze 
the processes and products of its own power to know. It must be able 
to explain every thing besides, before it can analyze and explain its own 
acts and products. 

The special objects of the mind's knowledge in these critical or 
speculative inquiries, are the relations which the mind must assume in all 
its knowing. Their special and distinguishing features when thus general- 
ized, .are their necessity, originality, and universal applicability to all its 
knowing. (§ 529.) 

We turn the Ifc is sometimes said that, in these inquiries, we turn the power of thought 
power of thought back upon itself, to ascertain and prove its assumptions and its laws. This 
th? intellectual is not technically true, if, by the power of thought, we mean only that higher 
processes. capacity of the intellect which forms and applies general notions or con- 

cepts. More exactly we say, we turn the power of thought to the analysis and explanation 
of the power of knowledge in all its modes of action, by showing the ultimate or the most 
generic objects which it apprehends, and the ultimate relations or principles which it assumes 
as original and true. Of these it gives as complete a philosophical explanation as is possible. 
It inquires in respect to the conditions of their production ; the order of their development 
ind growth ; their relation to the concrete processes and products of the intellect, and, indeed, 



§ 511. THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMEKATED. 499 

of the whole soul ; their mutual relation to one another ; and, last of all, their trustworthiness 
as grounds of certainty and as criteria of truth. 

Hence the critical examination of the power to know, involves a critical examination of 
ihe grounds and the trustworthiness of all knowledge and belief. It shows us that the rela- 
tions or principles which we receive and trust as axioms in one kind of knowledge, are to be 
trusted in another. It shows us, moreover, that we are bound to believe and follow them 
wherever they lead us, because we cannot know any thing without them. It sets aside 
objections that are derived from the denial of these truths by showing that they are not onh 
fundamental, but are always applicable. It disarms skepticism of every kind, whether it be 
philosophical, ethical, or theological, by showing that the relations which the human mind must 
apply in its lower knowledge, it cannot refuse to trust in their higher applications. 

Relation of these § 510. These inquiries conduct us from the field of psychology 
aph^aMn^t toward and into the fields of both logic and metaphysics. It 
tigations. j s not p rac tically easy to draw the lines which determine the 

boundaries of each. It is certain that this analysis is, to a certain extent, 
appropriate to psychology, and that both logic and metaphysics are incom- 
plete without the results which this psychological analysis gives. 

Strictly speaking, we should say that, in psychology we are required 
to explain how we reach and how we use these cognitions, while in logic 
and metaphysics we are concerned with what they are in their definitions 
and relations to one another, and to all our knowledge. Inasmuch, 
however, as it is impossible to separate the analysis of a process from an 
analysis of its product, the psychological will often encroach upon the 
logical and metaphysical sphere. 

It is certain beyond question, that, at a certain stage of the mind's development, these 
relations, in point of fact, become distinctly developed as separate products and objects of 
knowledge. Their origin must be accounted for. Their nature needs to be analyzed and 
explained. Their relation to the other processes and results which the mind performs and 
attains, must necessarily be unfolded, in order to attain a complete explanation of the powers, 
functions, and products of the intellect. 

we do not learn § 511. These ultimate facts and relations are not gained by 
tne mU orSary the processes that distinguish the faculties of the intellect 
cesses* an pr °" which we have thus far considered. Their truth and validity 
are not apprehended by^ but they are involved in these processes. They 
are not perceived by sense-perception, nor felt by consciousness ; they 
are neither reproduced in memory, nor represented or created by the 
phantasy; they are not generalized by the power to classify and name; 
they are neither proved by deduction, nor inferred by induction. They are 
developed and brought to view in connection with these processes, and are 
assumed in them all. 

That they have been referred to a special and separate 
referred ave to a faculty or faculties is a fact notorious in the history of 
separa e acu ty. p S y C h i gy an( j philosophy. This separate faculty or source 
of this peculiar knowledge has been designated by various appellations. 



500 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. . § 512. 

as the reason, common sense, judgment, intuition, faith, the intelligence, the 
regulative faculty, the noetic faculty, 6 No9s as contrasted with fj Aidvom, 
die Vernunft as contrasted with der Ver 'stand. .But while these truths 
have been so generally referred to a faculty under these various names, it 
has been as generally conceded that the word faculty is not used in it? 
usual signification. Thus Hamilton observes (Met Zee, 38), the term 
" faculty is employed, not to denote the proximate cause of any definite 
energy, but the power the mind has of being the native source of certain 
necessary or d, priori cognitions." 

8 512. The cognitions or beliefs themselves "have obtained 

The appellations ° ... __ . „ _,. _ _ _ . _ 

by which they various appellations. " Ihey have been denominated kolvcli 

are known. , v „ x „ «'_".#" 

7rpoArjij/€L<; ) koivoll cwololi, (pvatKai evvoiai, 7rpioTai evvotai, 7rpoyra 

vorjfiaTa; naturae judicia, judicia communibus hominum sensibus infixa, 
notiones or notitiw connatm or innatas, semina scientiw, semina omnium 
cognitionum, semina mtemitatis, zopyra (living sparks), prcecognita 
necessaria, anticipationes / first principles, common anticipations, princi- 
ples of common sense, self-evident or intuitive truths, primitive notions, 
native notions, innate cognitions, natural knowledges (cognitions), funda- 
mental reasons, metaphysical or transcendental truths, ultimate or ele- 
mental laws of thought, primary or fundamental laws of human belief oi 
primary laws of human reason, pure or transcendental or d, priori cogni- 
tions, categories of thought, natural beliefs, rational instincts, etc., etc." 
(Ham., Met. Lee, 38). 



Each one of these appellations could be easily explained, either by a reference to the 
nomenclature of some received philosophy, or by the obvious import of the words when 
applied to this subject-matter. Some additional names have been adopted by modern 
philosophers, in consistency with their general theory of knowledge. 

Philosophers are generally agreed that there are certain conceptions or ideas 
opinion in re- that deserve to be called elementary or original conceptions, certain relations 
intuitions theS6 tnat are P ro P er ^y designated as fundamental, and certain propositions that 

take that place in our knowledge which is commonly assigned to first or 
necessary truths. But they are far from being agreed as to what truths deserve this preemi- 
nence. Nor are they in harmony as to the process or processes by which they are acquired 
or revealed, nor as to the conditions or occasions on which they are suggested to or dis- 
covered by the mind. Least of all are they possessed of clearly-developed opinions as to the 
relation which they hold to the knowledge which is acquired by experience, or is demonstrated 
by reasoning. 

The language of many writers in respect to these principles is often eminent- 
va^^andVo^ ^ vague and figurative, when it ought to be clear and precise. Often the 
urative Ian- imagination is resorted to for some bold and striking image, which vividh 

presents a sensuous picture rather than satisfies the intellect by a rational 
explanation of the problem. Such solutions are accepted by those who mistake the relief 
which is felt in passing from the cold shadows of attenuated abstractions into the warm 
presence of a concrete image, for the satisfaction which arises from a finished analysis or 
well-rounded synthesis of thought-elements and thought-relations. For these reasons the 
dr:ty is imperative to attempt to give as clear and as well defined an exposition of these 



§513. THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMEKATED. 501 

truths as the nature of the subject-matter will allow. In doing this, it is fully as important 
to distinguish them from what they are not but are sometimes vaguely conceived to be, as 
positively to assert what they are. 

It will be noticed, that we make this question, at first a question of first principles, or 
Pelation of first intuitive truths or beliefs, and not of categories or original relations. The distinction 
principles to in- is purely formal. It is a matter of terms and not of thoughts, of language only, but not 
tuitions and f things. As, however, the concepts and relations concerned are like all other concepts 

and relations given in the form of propositions or principles, and especially, as these in 
particular are almost always applied in this form, it seems more natural to treat them as such. It is true 
in this as in all other cases, that it is from or through a proposition that the appropriate concept is de- 
rived. The concepts of cause and effect and of causation, those of means and adaptation as well as those 
appropriate to extension and duration, are first gained through propositions. In this we have another 
example of the principle that a concept is a contracted proposition, and that the judgment is the norm oi 
all forms of knowledge. 

£ 513. I. We observe, theD, that in calling them first truths 

Not acquired ^ ...... . . . , -, , 

first in. the order or primitive judgments, it is not intended that these truths 
or judgments are acquired first in the order of time, or that 
the mind's assent to them is prior to its other acts of knowledge. That 
they cannot be acquired or assented to first of all, is evident from the 
unquestionable fact that, by very many they are never acquired at all. 
The majority of men never think- of them, much less do they accept them. 
Even the majority who attain to not a little culture, do not reach a clear 
and intelligent conviction that these propositions are true. 

It was forcibly urged by Locke that such propositions as " whatever is, is " 

Locke's discus- and " the same thing cannot be and not be at the same time" cannot be innate, 

propositions and f° r tne plain reason that men at their birth, and in all the early period of 

ideas. their existence are entirely incapable of understanding the meaning of the 

conceptions and terms of which these propositions are composed. If they cannot understand 

the constituent elements, much less are they capable of asserting that one of them is true of 

the other. This argument of Locke is decisive against any view of these propositions, which 

would make them first, prior, or primitive in time. It might be further enforced by the 

consideration, that the mass of men are incapable of that analytic abstraction which is 

necessary to detach the universal from the individual example in which it is realized. To be 

able intelligently to affirm' that, every thing that begins to be, must have a cause ; or that a 

thing cannot be and not be at the same time, the mind must separate being or causality from 

individual cases or instances of being or causative action — must be able to see in an individual 

thing, whether real or thought being — a case of being in general, and in any instance of 

combustion or explosion, the causal efficiency exemplified in an individual instance. It ig 

easy to see that a man might assent to the truth, that this or that heated substance explodes 

a particular mass of gunpowder without distinguishing the one as a cause, and the other as 

the effect. 

. , Or, if we concede or suppose that the causal attribute or relation could, by 
It is impossible , . , ,. . . , , „ ,.,..,, , „ „ 

that the proposi- analysis, be distinguished from the individual example of cause or effect, an 

ments shouM be additional act of generalization would be necessary to qualify the mind tc 

apprehended bo assent to the general truth, " Every event must have a cause" To do this 

the mind must extend its vision widely enough to take in all events, real and 

possible, in all places, far and near, through all time, past, present, and future, in order tc 

comprehend the proposition to which its assent is required. But to such an exercise of 

generalization or comprehensive reflection, few men voluntarily or involuntarily raise them 

selves, and none at a very early period of life. 



502 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §514 

They are, in These may suffice as reasons for the fact that these truths. 
Sst'm the*S3S instead of being the first to be consciously possessed and 
of time. assented to, are the last which are reached, and by only a 

few of the race are ever reached at all. To reach them, long courses of 
training are required, to bring the intellect into a capacity for analysis and 
generalization, which may enable it to understand and assent to them. The 
mind must be exercised to some extent in philosophical studies before it 
can comprehend their import and application. 

S 514. II. "We observe that these truths or iud^ments stand 

They stand first ~ „ , 

in logical im- first or before all others in the order of rational or logical 

portance. . . .'••"-," 

importance. Hence they are called first principles : principles 
or truths a priori, as opposed to knowledge d posteriori. 

The term principle, which is so often used in this connection, 

Various signifi- . . ___;.' T 

cations of the is variously employed, and admits 01 many senses. It may 

term principle. _ _ _ . . _ . . " 

be generally defined as any thmg with which the mind 
begins in an act of rational or logical combination, or more generally still, 
as the constituent of any product of synthesis. The word principium, 
dpx4 is, literally, a beginning or starting-point. From this the transition 
is easy to the signification of that with which we begin ; in this case, any 
thing with which the mind begins in its acts of connected or synthetic 
knowledge. In accordance with this generic signification, it is used in the 
following special meanings. 

1. Any constituent element of an existing thing, whether it is material or 
A constituent el- spiritual — whether it is a being, act, or product, is a principle. The 
principle. materials which we put together, or think belong together so as to constitute any 

existing object, are sometimes called principles. In a similar way, the simple 
concepts that make up any complex concept or general notion whatever, are called principles. 

2. Any causal agent in matter or spirit, is called a principle, because the 
cause is looked upon as originating and beginning the effect. Thus we say 

usa agen . ^ a machine, it has the principle of motion within itself. This use is not 
uncommon of the capacities of the soul, viewed as causes of a function or 
product. Thus, we say, there is a principle in man's nature by which he is able to distinguish 
truth from falsehood, or right from wrong. 

3. Every general proposition which is admitted or used as a premise in deduc- 
A premise— es- tion, is also a principle. However such propositions are derived, and 
for C premise e ma " howsoever they are supported by evidence, whether they are true or false, 

accepted or disputed, they are called principles when used as premises foi 
deduction. The reason is obvious. They are so called, because the mind begins with thenr 
in the process of its reasoning. 

Sir William Hamilton asserts, in his review of Whatcly's Logic, that " no logician ever employed the 
term principle as a synonym for major-premise." Whether logicians would or would not accept this as a 
proper technical appellation for a major premise, it is quite certain that those who have called themselves 
philosophers have so applied the term. The language of Bacon is in strict accordance with the doctrine of 
Aristotle in the following passages. " In syllogismo fit reductio propositionum ad principia per proposi- 
tioncs medias." De Aug., lib. v. cap. ii. " Ars judicandi per syllogismum nihil aliud est quam reductio 
propositionum ad principia per medios terminos." Cap. iv. " Numerus vero terminorum mediorum minui- 
tur aut augetur, pro remotionc propositions a prineipio." lb. Webb's Inlellcctualism of Locke, pp. 42, 43. 



§515. THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMERATED. 502 

4. All generalizations from induction, as well as all collected observations 
A. truth or law from experience, are called principles, for the reason that they are used to 
Induction! 7 explain and account for the occurrence of particular events or phenomena. 

The mind begins with these in all its rational solutions. Hence the powers 
of nature and the laws of nature, as well as observed facts when generalized and supposed to 
indicate some concealed law, are freely called principles. 

5. Those general truths which are the starting-points of the reasonings oi 
The ultimate communications of any special science or art, are called, with eminent 
science or art " y propriety, principles ; because, in imparting or demonstrating the science, 

the teacher begins with these as facts, or reasons from them as premises. 
Hence the fundamental maxims or assumptions of mathematics, of logic, of law, of ethics, 
of politics and political economy, are called the principles of each of these sciences. In physics, 
also, the generalizations of Sir Isaac Newton concerning motion, etc., were called his first 
principles or great laws. So the leading truths or rules that are laid down as the guides of 
practice in any profession or art, are called the principles of that profession or art* For a 
similar reason, even the leading though not absolutely the fundamental truths of any science 
— the truths which are relatively comprehensive, though not the most comprehensive — are 
called principles ; as the Principia of Newton. 

Preeminently § 515. 6. But the appellation of principles is applied with 

concepts and re- w . - 1 A * x x l 

lations that are preeminent propriety to any one of those universal concepts 
knowledge. and relations which are implied in any of the different kinds 

of knowledge. To know, is to be certain of being or existence in some 
form or relation. Any form of being, or any relation which is uniformly 
present or involved in any of the distinguishable kinds of original knowl- 
edge, is a principle of knowledge. It must be assumed or supposed as a 
beginning or element to make that knowledge conceivable. 

Should we suppose that every possible kind or mode of knowledge were employed upon 
any single object, all these original or first principles would be brought into exercise. The 
exercise of the soul's completed knowledge would involve the application of each and all 
these principles. 

When we turn the power of knowledge in upon itself in the way of reflection — when we 
analyze it into its elements, and generalize these elements into concepts, we discover the 
principles or elements which enter into the act of knowledge itself. As the nature and 
essentials of the acts of knowledge appear most clearly in their products, we find them most 
conspicuously in the products of these acts. 

Again : As it is by the power and the act of knowledge that we can analyze the acts of 
knowledge, and so reach their essential elements, it follows that ultimate principles — these 
very principles for which we seek — must be implied and employed even in the act of discover- 
ing what these principles are. If this is a paradox in thought and seems a contradiction in 
language, it is a paradox which belongs to the very nature of reflection, and is implied by the 
possibility of such a power and its appropriate acts and results. 

Again : The act of knowledge is an actual discernment of something that is — of being 
And its relations. Whatever the mind believes or knows to exist, that must be taken as real. 
The relations which it always finds realized in each concrete thing or act, must be taken as 
not only the principles necessary to our human knowledge, but as true in the reality of things. 
The reality of these relations in the world of being, must therefore be assumed to be implied 
in the place which the relations hold as necessary and fundamental to all our knowing. 



504 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §516 

7. If there are other objects of knowledge usually called 

The infinite and . . _ , ........ 

the absolute are infinite and absolute, which are necessarily implied m these 
special and limited relations, these preeminently deserve to 

be called principles, as they are in rational order and dependence before, 

and the explanation of, all other objects of thought and knowledge. 

Whether there are such, must be decided by our subsequent inquiries, and 

will be discussed in the appropriate place. 

8 516. III. These remarks explain the kind of priority which 

The relation of ° _ r x J 

intuition to ex- belongs to these truths, and the reason why they are properly 

perience. ., T1 "~ . . , ~ .., -i •» 

so extensively called principles, first principles, and first 
truths. They lead us also to consider more particularly the relations 
which they hold to experience, and to the knowledge which is gained by 
experience. We have seen, in our previous analysis, that, while these 
truths stand first in the order of thought, they are last to be reached in the 
order of time. This implies that we are, in some sense, indebted to 
experience for their acquisition. It is equally clear that experience does 
not give them authority. Both these truths are expressed in the often- 
repeated proposition, that our knowledge of these truths is occasioned by, 
but it is not derived from experience. This is most happily expressed in a 
sentence quoted by Hamilton from Patricius ; cognitio omnis a mente 
primam originem, a sensibus exordium habet primum. 

Indeed, the most sagacious thinkers coincide in the opinion, that our higher and dpriori 
Tpstimo-nv of knowledge, while independent of experience as the source of its evidence and authority, 
Leibnitz, Eeid, is dependent upon experience as the occasion of its development. Thus Leibnitz, in 
Kant. criticising Loclce for asserting that all our knowledge is derived from sensation and 

reflection, says : " The senses, although necessary for all our actual cognitions, are not, 
however, competent to afford us all that our cognitions involve." Reid also observes, in defence and 
explanation of Locke's real meaning : "I think Mr. Locke, when he comes to speak of the ideas of rela- 
tions does not say that they are ideas of sensation or reflection, but only that they terminate in and are 
concerned about, ideas of sensation and reflection." Essay, vi. c. i. The doctrine of Kant upon this subject 
is uniformly as follows : " We must then first of all observe, that although all judgments of experience are 
empirical, •£. e., have their ground in the immediate perceptions of the senses, yet conversely it is not true, 
that all empirical judgments are for this reason judgments of experience, but in addition to the empirical 
element, and in general in addition to that which is given to sense-intuition, particular concepts must be 
furnished, whose origin is d priori in the pure understanding, under which every percept must be subsumed 
and so changed into true experiential as distinguished from empirical knowledge." Proleg. zuj. Kuvff. 
Met. % 18. 

Cousin also repeats himself abundantly in the following strain : " The idea of body is 
given to us by the touch and the sight, that is, by the experience of the senses. On the 
Cusin 0n ^ contrary, the idea of space is given to us, on occasion of the idea of body by the under- 

standing, the mind, the reason ; in fine, by a faculty other than sensation. Hence the 
formula of Kant : • the pure rational idea of space comes so little from experience, that it 
is the condition of all experience.' " "Now the idea of space, we have just seen, is clearly the logical con- 
dition of all sensible experience. Is it also the chronological condition of experience and of the idea of 
body ? I believe no such thing." " Take away all sensation ; take away the sight and the touch, and you 
have no longer any idea of body, and consequently none of space." " Eationally, logically, if you had not 
the idea of space you could not have the idea of body ; but the converse is true chronologically, and in fact, 
the idea of space comes up along with the idea of body." Elements of Psychology, translated by C. S. Henry, 
;hap. 2. Cours de VHisloire de la Phil, du lie siecle. Lecon 17. 

But while it is easy to assent to these general truths concern- 

Successive forms . , , . „ . , , , x . , , -, ... 

in which they are ing the relations of experimental to a priori knowledge, it is 
more difficult and yet more important to show precisely in 






§516. THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMERATED. 505 

what form and by what successive steps these truths are implied in, and 
yet evolved from experience. Concerning the former, the way or method 
in which this knowledge is connected with our experience, we observe 
They are ap- (!•) These intuitions are apprehended in a concrete, not an 
concre^liot^ abstract form. They can only be known as related to objects 
the abstract. £ ma tter or spirit, and never as independent of either. 

The intuitions of substance and attribute ; of cause and effect ; of means and end, cannot 
be separately perceived by sense or consciousness, nor can they be pictured to the imagination 
as separate entities. They are only known and knowable as related to beings, and in connec- 
tion with the beings to which they are related. The view that, because they are intuitions, 
they must necessarily be perceived apart, or by a faculty in any way analogous to a power of 
sense-perception, is only fitted to mislead the mind, and is wholly untenable. 

(2.) The only form of language in which any act of primitive 

J. llGy HX6 DGSI GX* ••••-, i -a • i » , mi 

pressed in prop- mtuition is adequately expressed is the proposition. Ine 
subject of this proposition is the concrete object (of matter 
or spirit) which sense or consciousness apprehends. 

We do, as it were, say, This is a being, cause, effect ; this is long, short, before, or after, 
etc. We have before seen that the proposition is the proper expression for all acts of 
knowledge. That this which is true of all the other modes of knowing, is preeminently true 
of this species or form of knowing, is obvious. All knowledge implies the apprehension of 
some relation, and is therefore an act of judgment ; one term of which is a concrete percept, 
or a conscious experience. But this knowledge is relational above all others, because it 
is invariably affirmed of a material or spiritual being. It must, therefore, be expressed in a 
proposition as its appropriate form of language. 

It is not true, as is sometimes vaguely conceived and represented, that the mind finds 
itself in possession of primary conceptions, which it then unites or connects into first proposi- 
tions or principles, but the original conceptions are given, as we have seen, in and through such 
propositions. This precludes the possibility, that the concepts or ideas should be furnished 
by one faculty — as the reason — and be combined in propositions by another faculty — the 
understanding. The true doctrine is, that the original propositions are analyzed so as to 
furnish the primitive ideas or notions. 

These proposi- (3.) The propositions in which this knowledge is first given 

lions are singu- N/ Xi . .. 

lar, not general, or expressed, are not general, but singular propositions. 

We do not set off with the universal beliefs or affirmations : Every event has some 
cause. Every thing seen or felt is extended or enduring, etc., etc. But as we apprehend 
each-separate object by perception or consciousness, we apprehend each as caused, extended, 
enduring, adapted, etc., etc., affirming mentally — i. e., knowing — this thing, seen or felt, is 
caused, extended, enduring, or adapted, etc. Cf. Cousin, Psychology, c. viii. ix. Cours de 
PHist, etc., Lecons 23, 24. 

(4.) From these propositions, as is true in all other cases, are 

These proposi- ~ . , , . mi 

tions pass into derived the appropriate concepts. Ine concepts cause and 
effect, those of means and end, as well as those appropriate ta 
extension, all appear originally as parts or constituent elements of proposi* 
tions. From these they are derived. Into these several concepts, each 
of these propositions is contracted and condensed. 



506 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §517 



The condition of 



(5.) Before these propositions and their concepts are appre- 
ieneraTizTng hended and assented to as universal and necessary, the mind 
tions and coi- must turn in upon itself, and reflect upon what it does and 

what it discerns in all its processes of knowing. 

In each of these processes it must analyze and distinguish the elements that are constant 
and essential. The fact that each is constantly present in, and essentially constituent of, these 
acts, is then apprehended and affirmed in those universal propositions which "we call first 
principles and necessary truths. Neither the concepts nor the propositions are given to the 
mind as general notions or universal truths. They are found or discovered to be universally 
affirmable of all individual beings and acts. It is only by a critical or reflective judgment that 
the mind knows them as universal, necessary, and primary. 

The several acts or methods of our knowing are reviewed ; all its distinguishable kinds 
are brought before the mind. We are satisfied that, for us, or by us, no additional methods 
or kinds are ever exercised, and none can be conceived as possible. In each of these several 
kinds, the common element is generalized as the relation of substance to attribute ; of cause to 
effect ; of means to end ; of percepts to extension ; of psychical states to time. These are general- 
ized into concepts, and receive their appropriate appellations, which, in some cases, are nouns, 
in others, circumlocutory phrases ; but in all, serve to designate the always present and essen- 
tially constituent fact — exemplified in the concrete instance, and generalized as the universal 
concept. 

The singulars which we generalize in the case of these relations are, in some 
Relation of these respects, unlike the sense-attributes which we generalize into their appropri- 
ralizations. gene " ate concepts. The similarity of these concrete relations is not, in all respects, 
comparable to the similarity which exists between concrete attributes ; 
especially those apprehended by the senses. The generalized concept of a relation does not 
hold the same position with respect to its concrete, as does the concept of the singular 
percept. "We do not generalize the concept cause from the singular cases of the causal 
relation exactly in the same way as we generalize the concepts white and color from the differ- 
ent shades of white, or, the different species of color. The generalized relation cannot be 
directly imaged as is the generalized percept. If we attempt this, we can only image some 
individual percept, and then attach to it some other percept known by memory or pictured by 
the imagination as connected in such a relation. None of these relations can be imaged directly ; 
they must all be indirectly and mediately pictured or illustrated, if they are pictured or illus- 
trated at all. The readiest as well as the most satisfactory sensuous image or vehicle by which 
they can be discovered, illustrated, and proved, is language, which, in its words and phrases, 
constantly attests the presence and the indispensableness of these relations. To the language 
of men we go to find the indications that men believe in them. In language, also, we 
discover the traces of the various differences and combinations in which they are accepted and 
applied. 

8 517. IV. The relation of this knowledge to experience be- 

Stages by which ? -, -, i , . . -i t\ 

they are devei- mg understood and kept m mind, we are prepared to attempt 
to indicate the separate stages of the process by which the 

knowledge of principles a priori is in fact developed and acquired. Of 

these five may be clearly distinguished. 

(1.) The first act or stage is the cognition of any concrete 

a^reheSn of object, of which in the way already shown any attribute in- 

the^oncrete ob- yolving an i ntu i t i on m i g h t be affirmed, or in which such 

might be exemplified. The object may be material or spiritual, it may b6 



§517. THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMERATED. 50^ 

a being or an act, as these are commonly distinguished. For example, it 
may be a fruit, a piece of marble ; the combustion of wood, the explosion 
of gunpowder, the shooting of a star, the running of a horse ; a remem 
bered occurrence, a sally of imagination, a fixed purpose, or the ego that 
performs conscious acts. 

It is conceivable that these and the like objects may be cognized for an instant, without 
the perception of any intuitional element or relation. Or should it be conceded that these 
cannot be apprehended apart for any length of time, the cognition of being comes first in the 
order of nature and of acquisition. 

It is obvious also that all men in fact attain this first stage of knowledge. The prominent 
objects of sense and of spirit attract the attention of the whole race through those acts of per- 
ception and consciousness of which all are capable. 

(2.) The next step or stage is the apprehension of these objects 

The second, of V ' . r ° . ri ^ J . . J 

the objects as re- as related in one or more given ways. The fruit is known 
as oval in form, as large or small in size. The color, taste, 
and feeling of the fruit are thought of it as qualities or properties. The 
combustion and explosion, the remembering, the imagining, are known as 
acts of the material or spiritual agent or as effects of which these agents are 
the causes ; or as the ends to which other acts are adapted, or for which 
they are designed. 

This second stage is reached by the whole race, not to the same extent or perfection in 
all, but so far that all may be said to achieve this kind of knowledge. Material objects are 
known by all men as long and short, round and square. Events are known by all as before and 
after. One object or act is known as the cause or the end of another object or act. The words 
which express and indicate the more familiar of these relations are accepted in the language 
of all men. They are spoken by all, and understood by all as signifying these relations. 

__ . , .. (3.) The next stage or act is when the relation is abstracted 

Third the appre- x ' . 

hension of the from the beings to which it belongs and is generalized intc 

relation abstrac- *> y , ^° *=> 

ted. relations higher and more extensive, contemplated as sepa- 

rate entities. Thus long, short, etc., are contemplated as length or short- 
ness ; round, spherical, etc., are known as roundness and sphericity ; past, 
present, and future are known as time relations; the power to produce 
this or that effect is abstracted and generalized as the causative relation ; 
the fitness to accomplish this or that end is generalized and abstracted as 
the relation of adaptation. 

This third stage is more rarely reached. For the common purposes of life men have little 
occasion to view these attributes and relations as separate entities, and still less to carry them 
to the highest degrees of generalization. Practical men have little need to consider or to speak 
of the relations of time and space or substance or cause, when separate from concrete objects 
and events, and when generalized in abstract language. Even thinking men, who may be well 
disciplined and practised in intellectual activities of other kinds, have few motives and little 
inclination to deal with such entities in their most abstract form. 

The fourth a - ( 4 ') The/owrZ/i stage is the critical consideration of the pro- 
prehension o f ce sses of knowledge, and the discernment of these relations 

the relation as ° ' 

fundamental. as essential elements in all these processes and as the funda 



508 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 518 

mental principles which are implied in them all. It is manifest that this 
stage is reached only by a few, and by those only whose attention is 
directed to the critical examination of the intellectual processes, and to 
a speculative consideration of the principles which they involve, 

There are but few who ever ask themselves what it is to know, what are the several modes 
or processes of knowing, what are the common elements which are always present in these 
processes, which can be analyzed in and generalized from them. Only a small portion of 
thinking men are trained to the habits of analysis and abstraction which are required foi 
such critical and speculative inquiries. Fewer still raise any questions as to the ultimate and 
most general assumptions in the nature and relations of finite things on which the entire 
structure of our knowledge is sustained. 

(5.) The last stage or act of distinct knowledge is the recog:- 

The fifth, appre- v . . _ 7 * _ ;_ -,,-..„. -, , 

hensionof corre- nition ot the correlates, usually called infinite or absolute, 
which are required by these relations when they are gen- 
eralized and reflected on in their completed import. Thus the relations 
of extension when apprehended as belonging to every material object, i. e., 
to the universe in its parts and as a whole, imply Space as their correlate ; 
those of duration imply the correlate of Time; the universe conceived as a 
single effect implies a single causing agent — the universe conceived as a 
designed effect requires that this agent should be intelligent. 

These correlates Space, Time, and God, are conceived as the conditions 
of the possibility of the universe, and the ground of its reality, and are 
therefore the first principles of every thing that is and can be known. 

It is manifest, that if it be assumed that there are such correlates to these finite beings, 
the consideration of them as the real and the necessary principles of all beings is not within 
the reach of the majority of men for the reasons already given. It requires a capacity for the 
highest analysis and abstraction of which the human mind is capable. It supposes an interest 
in and a capacity for wider generalizations than most men exhibit. Few men attain to these 
ideas through processes that are purely speculative. Fewer can give the philosophical reasons 
by which they reach and on which they receive them. 

All men may have the capacity to assent to truths concerning them when propounded in 
terms that are not philosophical, and enforced by reasons that are not abstract and specula- 
tive ; but the number is exceedingly small who can analyze the processes by which they are 
necessary, or see their relations as the ground of all being and of all knowledge. 

The fact that the recognition of these truths is the last attainment of the human mind is 
in entire harmony with the general law that the higher comes after the lower in the soul 
[Cf. Lotze, Mfo B. i. c. iv.] 

- , : . 8 518. This review which we have taken of the several forms 

Explains why « 

they are dis- in which these truths present themselves, and the several 

tmctly known by x 7 

bo few. stages by which they are developed to the mind's assent, 

serves to explain and confirm what has already been asserted in respect 
to these truths, viz., that though first in authority and in logical depend- 
ence, they are the last which are reached in the order of time ; and that 
though all men manifest a practical belief in these principles, when exern 



§519. THE INTUITION'S DEFINED AND ENUMERATED. SOS 

plified in the concrete, yet but few understand or assent to them when 
stated in a speculative form. 

It also enables us to understand how it is possible that they should be 
discovered and tested in a variety of methods suited to the condition 
of each of these classes, as also why the criteria which satisfy one class 
of minds should neither reach nor convince minds of another class. 

But what is best of all, it explains why the evidence for 

Tested by the , . . , . , r _ \ , . A . , ., , 

language of their truth and universal acceptance which is furnished by 
the language and the actions of men is more decisive and 
satisfactory than that which comes by speculative analysis or philosophical 
argumentation. 

We have seen that all men reach the second stage of knowledge, so far as to apprehend 
many objects in one or all of these necessary relations to some other object, i. e., as substance 
or attribute, as cause or effect, as means or end, etc. Their recognition of these concrete re- 
lations, they express by their language in appropriate concrete terms, as by the noun, the 
adjective, the verb, etc., in their various forms of flexion and construction. The belief in their 
reality they express by their actions, their wishes and hopes, their sacrifices and their labors. 
Few men reach the third, and the number is therefore small who reflect upon the relation 
of causation when stated as generalized from individual instances, or ask themselves whether 
it is universal and necessary to the mind. Much less do they concern themselves with the 
inquiry whether this relation is an original principle or element in the processes of human 
knowledge. Such persons cannot understand these questions when they are propounded and 
discussed by others, because the conceptions and terms are strange and unfamiliar to their 
minds. Still less can they appreciate the arguments by which they are supported and the 
criteria by which they are determined. 

And yet the very language which they use is a constant profession of their faith in the 
reality and importance of these relations. Almost every sentence which they frame and word 
which they employ is a voluntary acknowledgment, that these intuitions are necessarily accept- 
ed by all men. When they act, every one of their expectations and deeds is a more decisive 
avowal that these principles are absolutely certain, and never admit an exception. 

8 519. This review also explains how it can be that men 

Recognized in" . . . ^ 

the actions when may reject truths in theory which the y admit in fact. In 

denied in theory. , ■ -, . -,. , , 

other words, it explains the apparent paradox that there may 
be truths which men always recognize in their actions, but deny or ques- 
tion when they are phrased as speculative or philosophical propositions. 

Such propositions must always be expressed in the language of the Schools, that is in 
language which is abstract and therefore to a certain extent technical in its signification. They 
must be defended by appropriate evidence, the evidence that is appropriate in the schools ; 
which often rests upon principles with which the mind is by no means familiar and is enforced 
by methods of reasoning to which it has not been trained or wonted. Again, many men who are 
unschooled and all who are schooled, are more or less possessed of and influenced by some 
speculative theories which they have caught up by accident or received by tradition from a 
venerated or a fashionable philosophical source. Such principles, traditions, and even fashions 
in philosophy constitute both the axioms and criteria of their accepted faith, and by 
these they measure and try every doctrine which they are called to consider. If such square 
with their scanty or their completed, their traditional or their studied philosophy, they receive 
^hem 9,3 valid and true ; if they fail to do so, they reject them because they are inconsistent 



510 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §520 

with the principles which they accept. But when these same faiths are required for theii 
assent in language or in action, they present themselves in another form. They assent to 
them without hesitation, or rather they do not question them at all. They do not even rec- 
ognize the possibility that they can be questioned by any one. They have spoken their 
belief by word or act without even knowing that any belief has been uttered. 

We are justified in appealing from the philosophy of men to their words and actions. 
What all men inadvertently confess in their casual assertions, what they imply in the very 
forms of their language, what their actions unbiassed by their theories show that they rec- 
ognize, what their expectations from others show that they believe that their fellow-men also 
accept, what is assumed in all investigations and reasonings without the attempt to give any 
reasons for its truth, — these are all taken to be or to involve universal and necessary truths 
of Intuition, however difficult it may be to define them correctly, to reconcile them with the 
dicta of a received philosophy, or to show their place in any order of systematic arrangement. 
But we are not justified for these reasons in neglecting the speculative treatment of these 
truths. Every consideration of a speculative character requires us to subject them to those 
criteria which are purely philosophical. These we proceed briefly to consider. 

§ 520. V. The philosophical criteria of primitive conceptions 
Criteria. and first truths are usually stated as three : ' their univer- 
sality, their necessity, and their logical independence and 
originality? 

(1.) First truths are universally received. If they are not 
nS are ^ universal they can he neither necessary nor logically inde- 
pendent and original. But in what sense are they under- 
stood, and by what evidence can they be shown to be universal ? Surely 
not in this, that all men actually assent to them when propounded in a 
scientific form and phraseology. 

This as we have seen is from the nature of the case impossible, inasmuch as all men are 
by no means capable of understanding the terms and grasping the conceptions which enter 
into them. But all men can believe them in the concrete, in every individual case in which 
they are exemplified without knowing that they thereby exercise knowledge which when 
stated in its abstract form would involve the principles in question. Though they do not 
know this themselves, they may show it to others by the language which they employ, the 
actions which they perform, and the expectations which they cherish. These are sufficient to 
prove that certain truths are universally accepted. 

(2.) First truths are also necessary. Truths to be universal 
necXs^r?! 18 are an( i primitive must be necessary, i. e., the intellect must be 

constrained by the constitution of its being and the spontane- 
ous workings of its nature to receive them as true. It cannot know ob- 
jects of any kind except under their relations and according to the con- 
nections which they involve. Should it attempt to do so or to prove that 
it does not employ and recognize them, it would make the effort of know- 
ing without them, and of proving that it did not, by using these very re- 
lations in its efforts and its arguments. 

When these truths are called necessary, the intellect is conceived as endowed with a 
permanent constitution working after certain laws, to uniform results. Should it be suggested 
that, what may be necessary to one intellect may not be necessary to another, or that what 






§ 521. THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMERATED. 511 

maybe necessary to one order of intellects, e. g., to man, may not be necessary to another order 
of intellects, e. g., to another race or created order of spirits, it may suffice to answer that the 
grounds by or through which we make this suggestion and the argument by which we enforce 
it all presuppose the application and necessity of these relations for all who know, or to whom 
our knowledge affirms any thing to be true. If we attempt to destroy the grounds of human 
knowledge we must do it by means of the very relations upon and out of which this knowl- 
edge is constructed. 

(3.) First truths must be logically prior to and independent of 

They are inde- \/ , , _.. -f.-, . 

pendent of other all other truths. Jiacn one oi them is the most generic con- 
cept of many similar individual relations. It can be itself 
resolved into no other, and can be proved by no other. 

This is what Buffier must intend, when he says, " they are propositions so clear that they 
can neither be proved nor attacked by any propositions more clear than themselves." Hamil- 
ton means the same when he calls them incomprehensible, defining the term to signify, that 
of which we know the fact, but cannot give a reason. Hence they are called self-evident truths 
and Intuitions, because they need only be seen or apprehended to be believed. The act 
of critical or speculative intuition is not an act of sense-perception nor an act at all analogous, 
nor is it an act of memory, nor an act of reasoning in any of its forms ; but an act of knowl- 
edge which is direct and original and is the necessary condition of all other acts of knowl- 
edge, preeminently of those which are the highest of all, viz., the acts of thought. 

§ 521. It follows that these truths are neither discovered by 
discovered by in- induction nor generalized from experience. That truths 

thus acquired are worthy to be called principles in a very 
high and important sense has already been conceded. But it by no 
means follows that the truths which are principles in a sense which is still 
higher and more eminent are also derived from this source. That they are 
not the result of induction has been shown by the nature of induction as 
revealed in the analysis already given of the process. It has been shown 
that the process involves certain assumptions as true ; or the belief of cer- 
tain relations as original and self-evident. Unless we begin by assuming 
that these relations are valid and original, we cannot confide in the pro- 
cess of induction itself. Indeed, without these assumptions, the process 
can have no meaning. 

That they cannot in any way be generalized from experience has been shown by the 
analysis already given of their relations to experience. J. S. Mill, in his Logic, contends most 
earnestly that all the so-called original necessary truths, including the postulates of mathe- 
matics, are derived by Induction through experience. The considerations already adduced 
are decisive against his theory. This will appear still more evident when we consider these 
truths more particularly. 

" Man kann durch sie nie Grundsatze sondern, nur Lehrsatze einer 
theoretischen Wissenschafl erschliessen. Die Induction ist nicht der Wee: 
zu den nothwendigen Wahrheiten, sondern der Weg zu der Verbindung 
der nothwendigen Wahrheiten mit den zufalligen Wahrheiten." 

E. F. Apelt, Theorie der Induction, § 8, p. 58. 



512 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §522. 

§ 522. N"or can they be regarded as the highest premises 
major presses for comprehensive syllogisms, obtained "by successive pro- 

for syllogisms. n . , i • . i 

cesses 01 regressiveiy analyzing the premises or assump- 
tions on which narrower syllogisms are founded. This view has been 
countenanced, if it has not been taught directly, by philosophers of very 
high authority. 

Thus Dr. Reid says, "When we examine, in the way of analysis the evidence of any proposition, 
either we find it self-evident, or it rests upon one or more propositions that support it. The same thing 
may be said of the propositions that support it, and of those that support them, as far back as we can go. 
But we cannot go back in this track to infinity. Where, then, must this analysis stop 1 It is evident that it 
must stop only when we come to propositions which support all that are built upon them, but are them- 
selves supported by none— that is, to self-evident propositions." Ess. VI. c. iv. 

So Aristotle : 'Hjuei? Se <$>afj.ev, ovre natrav emo"nqiJ.riv airoSeutTuajv elv<u, aWa. ttjv twv afieawv avairoSein- 
tov ' Kal toC0' oti avaynalov, $>avepov • el yap avayxij [lev eniaTaaOai ra rrporepa Kal ef 5>v i) an68et£is, iararai 
Se jroTe, Ta djote'cra tclvt avanoSeiKTa avayxij elvai. Anal. Post. i. 3 ; cf . i. 22. Cf. McCosh, Intuitions of the 
Human Mind, Part i. B. i. c. ii. § 1 (6). 

To the same effect Buffier urges, " What is that which makes the little knowledge of which we are 
capable, so defective 1 It is that in the cbain of our reasonings there are propositions at which our intellect 
stops, or respecting the truth of which others do not agree with us. These we endeavor to demonstrate ; 
if our arguments do not convince, we adduce new proofs of these arguments. But in going up from proof 
to proof, we must at last reach propositions which do not need to be proved. * * * It follows therefore 
most clearly that there are propositions which it is not necessary to undertake to prove, but which it is 
of the last importance that we discern." Traite d.prem. ver. Dessein, etc., § 6. 

It is, however, one thing to show that without first truths no deduc- 
tion is possible, and quite another to show that such truths must be em- 
ployed as the ultimate premises in our most comprehensive deductions. 
The analysis already given of the deductive process has shown that it rests 
primarily upon the relation of reason to conclusion, which in its turn rests 
upon the relation of cause to effect. It has also shown that the materials for 
deduction are all derived from induction or mental construction. First 
truths, or intuitive relations are implied as in one sense the support 
or foundation of the process of deduction, but not in the way of serving 
as its most comprehensive premises. . 

Were we to consider the process of deduction in its purely logical relations, 
In their nature we should clearly see that these truths could serve no use as premises. 
anything. Nothing could be proved by such universal and wide-reaching propositions as 

every event must be caused, etc., etc. As soon as you interpose the minor, ' this 
explosion is an event,' you make no progress towards additional knowledge in the conclusion. 
You know already that this explosion was an event. In knowing it at all you had already 
decided that it was one of the things that are caused. Or more exactly, deduction as a logical 
process consists in the act of affirming [or denying, as the case may be] the predicate of a 
major premise of the subject of a minor by means of an intervening middle term. Let the 
major premise be ' all matter is extended,' and the minor be, ' electricity or light is matter ' the 
conclusion would be ' light or electricity is extended.' Here it is argued you would have a 
convincing process. To this we reply, certainly, it would seem so, provided the minor were 
accepted or proved, but in proving that light or electricity is matter, you must prove 
that they possess the essential properties of matter, of which extension is one and is known 
to be one by intuition. From premises with predicates given by intuition there can be no 
progress towards any conclusion. The same fact may be stated more briefly thus : whatever ia 
intuitively known to be true of each individual of the whole sphere or extent of a concept, 



§ 523. THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMERATED. 513 

need not and therefore cannot be proved by deduction to belong to every such individual. 
Moreover, not a single example can be cited of a syllogism that proves any thing, the majot 
premise of which is a first truth or a first principle. 

For the purposes of deductio/i, all such principles are barren and useless. Nothing can 
be derived from them. From their very nature, they are simply statements concerning the 
relations or elements, that are present in every act of our higher knowledge. It is only be- 
cause they are present as an essential and necessary element in all these processes that they 
must of necessity be conditions of deduction. 

§ 523. VI. These intuitions or categories are in the strict 
pendent of one sense of the term logically independent of one another. Their 

apparent dependence upon one another arises from the limits 
of the human intellect. These prescribe a certain order in the familiar 
acquisition of these concepts and in the frequency and extent of their ap- 
plication. 

The observation is very common that by a logical necessity we must think of being 
before we think of its relations or attributes ; of time before we think of space ; of all these 
before we think of cause, and of these together with causation before we think of design : or, as 
expressed in other language ; Being is fundamental to all the other categories, and must be 
presupposed before and as the condition of them all : and in a similar manner the less must 
precede the more dependent till the entire circle is complete. 

This attempt to develop the categories from one another was carried to its extreme by 
Hegel, who began with being, and making "being to be equal to nothing, i. e. to have no 
mentof the cate- content, sought by what he called its becoming, i. e., the independent and necessary 
gories. movement of the concept, to evolve all the categories from one another, not only of 

thought but of material and spiritual existence, in a self-completing and perpetually 
repeated circle. This self-evolved and self-completing circle of necessary concepts was conceived by him as 
the Idea, and all these together constituted the absolute, i.e. the sum total of mutually-related possible, and 
actually conceivable thoughts and things. 

Hegel's mistake was twofold. He attempted to derive things from thoughts, or real from logical rela- 
tions, instead of finding all logical, i. e., all generalized relations in those which are real. He attempted 
t.o derive one category from another, instead of explaining the apparent depeudence of one upon another by 
the order in which they are developed to, and the extent in which they are applied by, the mind through its 
psychological limitations. 

These categories cannot be developed from one another, for if this were 
Why they seem possible, they would not be primitive and original. One cannot be explained 
on one another, into or resolved by another. None of them is properly complex, for if this 

were so, each of the constituent elements would be original and primitive, 
but not their constituted whole. They cannot be dependent in the relation of content, i.e., the 
import of one cannot be resolved into that of another. Nor is one more extensive than the 
other, so far as the real objects are concerned to which they may possibly be applied. Every 
object that exists must be conceived as existing, as diverse from others, as related to others, 
as whole or part, as in time and space, as capable of number, etc., etc. Were the mind 
capable of attending to all these conceivable relations of every existing object by a single 
intuitive act ; were it not dependent upon the slow processes of observation and induction to 
learn which is related to which as cause and effect, power and law, means and end, these rela- 
tions would be equally extensive in their application, and would all be co-ordinate with one 
another in the view of the human as they are before the divine mind. But inasmuch as the* 
human mind proceeds in its knowledge step by step, some of these relations are far more 
familiarly and far more extensively applied than others. Some of them are applied to objects of 
imagination and thought, while others are more rarely affirmed even of things. The relations 
of dependence between them are therefore chronological and psychological rather than logical. 
33 



514 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §525. 

They are founded on the readiness with which they are acquired, and the frequency with 
which they are applied by the finite intellect of man, which can give its attention to but 
few objects at once ; and to some objects more readily than to others. 

§ 524. VII. The categories or intuitions may be divided 
Distinguished in- \ B i the formal, the mathematical, and the real. The formal 

to three ciasses. . . . . 

are those which are necessarily involved in the act of knowl- 
edge, whatever be its objects-matter — whether they be real, imagined, or 
generalized — whether they be actually existing or purely mental creations. 
They are essential to the form or process of knowledge, and appear in all 
its objects or products. The mathematical are those which grow out of 
the existence of space and time and suppose these to be realities. The 
relations included under this definition are not exclusively used in the 
sciences of number and quantity, but inasmuch as they are fundamental 
to these sciences, we distinguish them by this epithet ; using mathematical 
to designate all the time and space relations and those which are de- 
pendent upon them. The real are those which are ordinarily recognized 
as generic and fundamental to the so-called qualities and properties of 
existing things, both material and spiritual. We do not, however, by 
using the term real, imply or concede that the formal and the mathe- 
matical are any the less real — but that they are not limited so exclusively 
to objects really existing. 

To analyze the categories into their ultimate elements, is confessedly not easy. Some 
Why difficult to tna * seem to be simple and ultimate, prove themselves, on a closer inspection, to be corn- 
determine and plex and derived. To arrange them in a satisfactory classification is, if possible, still 
classify them. more difficult. The principles by which, and the starting-point from which, such a 
classification may be conducted, are various, and are far from being universally agreed 
upon. Should our attempt be only partially successful, it may yet further the ends of truth by its partial 
success, and its partial failure, as the first is approved and as the second provokes criticism. 

The problem is, to determine what relations and concepts are original, in the sense of being incapable 
of being interchanged with and derived from, any other. The difficulty of solving the problem is greatly 
increased by the circumstance that the same original continually appears and reappears under different 
names ; the difference in the terms being owing, in part, to merely linguistic influences, and in part to 
the combination of the original with some other element, giving a complex notion, in which the category 
is prominent. In other cases, the element in question is disguised under a term in which its purpose or 
use is most conspicuous. Thus, the category of being signifies generic or thought-being, real being, an 
existing, i. e., individual being, substance, etc., and the relations of causation are more or less conspicuous 
and yet variously applied in the terms power, efficiency, capacity, faculty, quality, etc., etc. 

The principal categories and intuitions may be determined by a reference to the several 
acts and objects of knowledge which have come under consideration in the preceding analysis 
of the powers, products, and processes of the human intellect. In this analysis we have sought 
to recognize all the objects and relations involved, and the review of it will be likely to suggest 
the most important. 

§ 525. The formal categories have been defined as the 
The formal cate- generic conceptions and relations Avhich are involved in 

gones. ° * 

every form or kind of knowledge. We call them formal 
because they are present in every act of knowing, whatever be its con- 
ditions or objects. These essential and always present relations will not, of 
course disappear when the real relations present themselves which are d& 



§526. THE INTUITIONS DEFINED AND ENUMERATED. 515 

rived from the objects known. They must perpetually appear and re 
appear in connection with these, whether they are recognized or over 
looked. 

It will be observed that these are not formal in the sense in which the 
term is often applied, i. e., as pertaining exclusively to logical or thought 
knowledge. They are present in all the forms of knowing, in conscious* 
ness, sense-perception, and representation, as truly as in the technically- 
called forms of thought. Thought generalizes them, and hence, even 
when they are spoken of in perception and consciousness, they are pre- 
sented to the mind as concepts, and thus involve the relations of concepts 
to concepts, as well as the relations of things to things. 

Knowledge, in all its forms, has been defined as the apprehension of being. Every thing 
known is known as a being (§ 48). The concept of being is coextensive with knowledge, and 
is therefore fundamental. But in knowing, we not only apprehend being but beings as related 
(§ 49). Relationship or the condition of being related, is a concept which is as truly involv- 
ed in every act of knowledge and is equally extensive and original with being. 

But in knowing being as related, we must distinguish beings from their relations — i. e. 
knowledge involves analysis (§ 50), and thus requires the condition of being distinguished, 
i. e., diversity in objects known, and that this should be as extensive as the act of knowledge. 
Not only is analysis present in every act of knowledge, but synthesis also. But union and 
separation involve products in objects related as wholes and parts. 

One being is distinguished from another being and one relation from another relation, as 
truly as one being is distinguished from its relations. The relation of diversity extends to 
beings and relations. 

But again: when beings are generalized they are united, i. e., brought into a whole, by 
means of common, i. e., similar, relations (§ 390). They cannot be described in language or 
defined in science, except by means of their characteristic relations. They are known and 
knowable by these common properties. Not only is every being known by its distinguishing 
relations, but they are still further known in their classes by the greater or less number of 
relations which are common and peculiar to each, i. e., by being combined in class-concepts, 
which are more or less comprehensive. Distinguishability by relations, enters very largely into 
our knowledge. It is present as extensively as generalization or the use of concepts. This 
gives us the so-called category of substance and attribute, as at least coextensive with the act 
of knowledge by concepts. But the concept, in its double relation of content and extent, 
involves logical analysis and synthesis, with logical parts and wholes as their prodiccts. 

Diversity again involves the relations of identity, in the double form 
of real and logical identity, according as the object-matter is a being 
known to be identical with itself, or as it is a concept regarded as identical 
with its elements. 

8 526. We pass from the act to the objects of knowledge. 

The mathemat- .,.,,. , . , , . , . , . . , 

icai or logical All the beings which we know are either material or spiritual. 
The distinctive relations of each are manifold, as we have seen ; 
but those most generic and universal are their time and space relations. 
All spiritual beings and phenomena are enduring or time-requiring. All 
material beings and phenomena are extended, or space-occupying, and 
"ndirectly time-filling. These relations are coextensive with these two 



516 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §527. 

kinds of being, and hence are said to be characteristic of them, as existing 
or real objects. 

It is by means of space-relations that we connect together the several percepts that are 
given by the separate senses into material wholes or things. These material wholes we divide 
into smaller spatial limits, or we can enlarge them by extending their limits and adding to 
their substance, thus making material wholes and parts by the analysis and synthesis that is 
essential to all sense-perception. 

By the time-relations we connect the several states of the soul which we experience in 
consciousness as coexisting and successive, and affirm the continued and identical existence 
of the soul itself; making wholes and parts of its activity, as we are conscious of the soul 
as one existing being in many acts or states. 

Time and space relations are eminently individualizing relations, inasmuch as the indi- 
vidual objects of sense-perception and consciousness are known as limited to certain time and 
space relations, as now and then, here and there, or as still further limited by the combina- 
tion of the two — the observer occupying a given place, or existing at a given time when he is 
respectively conscious of a psychical state as now or then, or cognizant of a sense-object as here 
or there. This is equivalent to th« use of the definite articles the, this, or that. But again, 
these relations may be generalized, and so express size, form, situation, and direction, the pres- . 
ent, the past, and the future, and so be applicable to a great variety of material and spiritual 
objects. 

The most striking scientific use to which they are applied is when 
the ideal relations of certain products of the constructive imagination are 
generalized, and the various concepts of magnitude and number are the 
results, with the relations which they involve. These give us another 
species of thought-wholes and thought-parts, which are the representatives 
and symbols of the various species of quantity. It is for their important 
service, and their ready application to these uses, that time and space 
relations are called by eminence the mathematical relations. 

Time and space relations also render another important service. All spiritual phenomena, 
and all thoughts, i. e., intellectual concepts and relations, must of necessity be set forth by 
analoga which are founded on sense-objects or sense-images, i. e., on objects and images 
borrowed from the material world, and holding relations to both space and time. That is, the 
concepts proper to all these words, must in some way or other be constructed of elements 
which, in the ultimate analysis, are derived from properties or relations that are imaged in 
space and time. The most abstract terms in every language — the terms for the very categories 
themselves, as being, diversity, relationship, even for time and space themselves — will be found 
to be derived from such images, or to suggest them. The universal attendant upon all 
phenomena, whether material or spiritual activities, or their products, is motion. Hence, motion 
is used so largely in the construction of all concepts, and the importance of motion, as the one 
category that is in a sense common to all the rest and the agent by which beings and their 
thought-relations are conceived by the mind. But motion implies both space and time, the 
concepts of which it enables us to construct, and which, in its turn, it helps us to reason of, and 
to define. (Cf. A. Trendelenburg, Logische Untersuchungen). 

§ 527. The remaining class of relations is the real, the so- 

The ieai cate- called qualities, properties or powers of existing material and 

spiritual beings. These are reducible to two, viz., causation 



§ 52*7. THEORIES OF INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE. 517 

ar the capacity to produce effects; and adaptation or the fitness to accom- 
plish certain designs or ends. 

The first is generic to all material and spiritual properties and powers, Every thing which 
we call a .sensible or spiritual quality in nature requires and supposes the fundamental relation 
of cause and effect. Every such quality when affirmed of a being is but another name for its 
causative power to produce such and such an understood or assumed effect. Even spatial 
motions are conceived by the spatial relations which they involve or bring to view, as causal 
capacities to produce or effect certain mathematical constructions, and thus in a certain sense 
' to come under the category of causation. We extend the same relation to the properties of 
abstracta or the mental entities which are formed by abstraction and generalization. These 
causative relations furnish the most important materials for the analysis and definition of our 
concepts of material and spiritual things, and for the arrangement of them into classes. The 
so-called powers of matter and faculties of spirit are causal capacities ; the conditions to the 
actual exertion of this causal force being called their laws. These conditions are most conspic- 
uous in those laws of material forces which are found in those mathematical relations, the 
value of which has been so amply illustrated in the progress of physical science. The elements 
into which analysis and preeminently scientific analysis seeks to resolve all material and spirit- 
ual agents, are their causative energies. 

But when science combines these elements which it has separated, for the rational use 01 
interpretation of nature, it recognizes the second generic relation, viz., the relation of adapta- 
tion. It does this when it itself combines together several agencies for the designed produc- 
tion of an effect, or when it interprets a result which it finds in nature by the combined 
activity of the agencies which it knows are fitted and it believes were designed to effect it. 
As by analysis we separate the several causative elements of an object, and in so doing, turn 
the mind in different directions or aspects in order to view the object in its relations to every 
other, so by synthesis we bring these elements together when we view them as forming the 
designed or permanent essence of the object before us. We do the same when we regard 
several powers of different beings or several beings as acting together to accomplish any effect 
for which they are essential. It is by the relation of adaptation in certain powers in nature 
to certain designs of nature that we explain the permanence of individuals and classes. It is 
by the adaptation of the powers and laws of the objects which we know, to the impulses and 
operations of the knowing mind, that we explain the endurance of the laws of nature. It is 
by the same consideration of adaptation that we confide in the harmonious action of the 
powers of nature and the stability of her structure ; that we rely upon the trustworthiness of 
her indications, or believe in the development and progress of the Universe. It is by adapta- 
tion that we connect the parts of the universe into a finite system or whole or find the 
best solution of its being and its order and interpretability in a self-existent and per- 
sonal Intelligence. 



CHAPTER II. 

THEORIES OE INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE. 

A. complete sketch of the various theories which have been held in respect to the nature, 
origin, and authority of primitive notions and intuitive judgments, would involve the 
most important portion of a complete history of Metaphysics or Speculative Philosophy. 
Such a sketch would be entirely out of place in the present work, and will not be at« 



518 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 529. 

tempted. We shall only endeavor to group and critically examine, under a few compro 
hensive titles, those theories which have any present interest for modern thought, 01 
which are still maintained in modern schools of philosophy. 

§ 528. ]. It has been extensively taught and believed, that these original ideas and 
rhe theory of a g rs ^ truths are discerned by direct insight or intuition, independently of their relation 
-ision of first ^° ^e phenomena of sense and spirit. The power to behold them is conceived as a 
truths. special sense for the true, the original, and the infinite ; as a divine Reason which acts 

by inspiration, and is permitted to gaze directly upon that which is eternally true 
and divine. The less the soul has to do with the objects of sense the better— the more it is withdrawn 
from these, the more penetrating and clear will be its insight into the ideas which alone are permanent 
and divine. Such are the representations of Plato, Plotinus, etc., among the ancients. Similar language 
has been employed by many in modern times who have called themselves Platonists. Platonizing 
theologians have freely availed themselves of this phraseology and have seemed to sanction the views which 
this language signifies. Thus the Platonizing and Cartesian divines of the seventeenth century, as Henry 
More, John Smith of Cambridge, Ralph Cudworth, and multitudes of others, freely express themselves. 
Philosophers who Platonize in thought or language have adopted similar phraseology ; some have even 
pressed these doctrines to the most literal interpretation. Malebranche, Schelling, Coleridge, Cousin, and 
others, have allowed themselves to use such language and have given sanction to such views more or less 
clearly conceived and expressed. Those who combine with philosophic acuteness, the power of vivid im- 
agination and of eloquent exposition, not infrequently meet the difficulties which attend the analysis and 
explanation of the foundations of knowledge, by these half-poetic and half-philosophical representations. 
"Whatever may be their real meaning, it is manifest that the representations which they give are not 
true when literally interpreted. It cannot be successfully, scarcely soberly maintained, that these ideas and 
truths are discerned by the mind out of all relation to actual beings and concrete phenomena. It is so far 
from being true that the mind needs to be delivered from, or to look away from the sensible in order to 
discern the rational, that it should always be remembered, that it is only by means of the sensible that 
permanent principles and relations can ever be reached. No direct inspection of primitive ideas and 
principles is conceivable. It is not by withdrawing the attention from, but by fixing it upon the facts and 
phenomena of the actual world, that the truths and relations of the world which is ideal and rational can 
be discerned at all. 

If we put a more sober as well as a more charitable interpretation upon the language in question, we 
shall be safe in asserting, that when this class of writers require that the intellect should be withdrawn 
from the sensible in order that it may discern the rational, they mean only that the mind should disregard 
what is peculiar to the individual, and consider those attributes and relations which are necessary and uni- 
versal. "When they insist that there is in man a special sense or insight for the supersensual, they intend 
that the mind cannot avoid contemplating the higher relations of sensible and transitory objects. 

§ 529. 2. Many of the earlier philosophers and theologians of modern times, following 
The theory that ^he Scholastics of the middle ages, were accustomed to say that these ideas and truths 
corned by the are discerned by the light of reason and the light of nature, or that they are evidenced 
light of nature. or evinced by their own light. The use of this language is in part to be traced to the 
often-repeated maxim of Aristotle that some truths cannot be demonstrated, but 
must be accepted without proof ; in part by a Platonic interpretation of the passage in the gospel of John 
(i. 9), in which the Word is said to enlighten every man who corneth into the world. 

"Whatever may have been the origin of the phrase, the fact is undoubted that, before the critical 
investigations were introduced by Descartes which led to the modern psychology, these primitive 
ideas and primitive truths were generally said to be discerned by the light of nature. 

It is obvious that the phrase is figurative and expresses only the fact which remains to be explained 
and accounted for, that these truths are neither generalized from experience nor deduced by logical ratio- 
cination ; that they are no sooner thought of than they are assented to, and that upon them as original 
assumptions rests the validity of all generalization and deduction. 

The following account of the lumen nalurale is taken from the Lexicon Philosophicum of Chauvinus. 
Puotterdam, 1692. " Hujus modi autem lumen humanse menti convenire ex eo confici putant, quod eidem 
humanse insit, tarn ea, qua? vulgo appellatur intelligcntia, sive habitus primorum principiorum, quam les 
naturalis ; quae certe nihil aliud esse posse aiunt quam prsedictum lumen naturale." 

" Inest quidem humanse menti cum intelligentia, turn lex naturalis : ilia qua gcneralium quarundaruin 
propositionum ad quas, velut ad primam scientise normam, omnes disciplinarum omnium demonstrationes 
revocari possunt, ut impossibile est idem simul esse, et non esse; tolum est sua parte majus ; hoec quii boni 
faciendi, malique vitandi, ut honesle vivere, neminem Icedere, suum cuique tribuerc, mens humana, nemir.o 
mortalium docente, et conscia et persuasissima est. Sed utraque ilia mentis humanse qualitas est lumen 
katurale; si quidem utraque est informatio nostra? menti a Deo, et de Deo ingenit a, nullum unquara 
ftnem habitura. Hanc autem sententiam impugnant alii." Cf. Koliones Communes. Chauvini Lex. Phil 



§531, 



THEORIES OF INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE. 51 P 



§ 530. 3. The doctrine has been earnestly held and taught that these ideas and beliefs 
"That they are are ^nale in or connate with the soul This is well known as the doctrine which Des- 
innate or con- cartes is supposed to have taught, and to the refutation of which Locke devoted the first 
nate - book of his Essay. It is that the intellect finds itself at birth or as soon as it wakes to 

conscious activity, to be possessed of ideas to which it has only to attach the appropriate 
lames, or of judgments which it needs only to express in fit propositions. Whether this doctrine as thus 
lefined and stated, was ever held by any one may perhaps be questioned. Even Descartes himself seems, 
when pressed, wholly to abandon the doctrine which he had earnestly propounded and made the foundation 
of the most important conclusions. That many have used language which would admit only of this con- 
struction can be satisfactorily shown. But no philosopher would be thought worthy of attention who should 
contend that these primary conceptions are formed by the mind without the experience of individual objects, 
or that the mind at a very early period of its activity has any judgments which involve them. All will 
agree that it is only after the experience of many individual objects that these conceptions are developed 
to its distinct apprehension, and that the mind must reach the highest and last stage of its development 
before the so-called innate ideas are horn into life. 

On the other hand, it would be conceded by many, and can be defended as true, that the capacity to 
evolve these ideas and these truths is born with man and forms an essential feature of his constitution as 
& man. Not only is he endowed with these capacities but he is also furnished with tendencies which im- 
pel to their exercise, under which these conceptions and judgments are surely and necessarily developed 
so soon as the mind applies the necessary attention or awakes to the requisite conditions. Even before 
these conceptions are generalized they are assented to in the individual and concrete, in the most important 
kinds of knowledge. 

What is innate in man ia, then, the capacity to know objects under these universal and necessary 
relations so soon as the mind is sufficiently developed, or finds the requisite occasion to apply them. Ther« 
is innate, also, the necessity, so soon as the mind reflects on the relation of these truths to the rest of its 
knowledge, that it should find in them the foundations of or necessary assumptions for all that it knows. 
Moreover, as soon as it considers itself as being born with a constitution which fits it to know, it must 
recognize the capacity for receiving these fundamental truths and for receiving them as fundamental, to 
be born with its being. 

§ 531. 4. From the doctrine of innate ideas and the school of Descartes, the transi- 
The views of *^ on ^ s natural and direct to the views held by Locke and the several divisions of his 
Locke and his school. These are naturally grouped together, though the interpretations of the mean- 
school, ^g £ Jjqq^q are very diverse, and the several schools that are named after Locke hold 
opposite and incompatible opinions. It will be found, however, that they all can b? 
traced to Locke, either as they are sanctioned by his direct authority or were derived from some of his 
principles by logical deduction or natural growth ; or as they were devised to supplement some of his sup- 
posed oversights or defects. These various schools also, in their turn, prepared the way for the origination 
and development of the leading schools of the later modern philosophy. 

Locke, as is well known, rejected the doctrine of innate ideas and protested most vigor- 
ously against it, in the first book of his Essay. This protest was of the greatest service 
innate 1 deaT S ° to P niloso P n y m delivering it from the vague and fantastical assertions upon this sub- 
ject which had been allowed before his time. It has been questioned and may be 
doubted, whether any sober and considerate thinker ever received the doctrine in the 
form and sense in which Locke rejected it. It is certain that many philosophical writers have expressed 
themselves in language which warranted the interpretations which Locke thought it necessary to refute. 
But Locke did not guard himself against serious ovei-sights in this polemic. He did not 
distinguish between our positive ideas of objects and acts in both matter and spirit- 
were unguarded wmctl m ake up the materials or facts of knowledge— and the relations between these 
materials, which, if possible, are more important than the facts which they connect. 
Nor did he conceive at all the difference between an idea as acquired by experience and 
as occasioned by experience. He did not discern that a relation which is developed in experience to con- 
scious apprehension, must be implied or assumed to make experience possible. He did not distinguish 
between innate ideas and innate dispositions or capacities to develop and assent to the truths which in- 
volve original ideas. To correct these oversights, Leibnitz subjoined his well-known reply to the adage, 
" nihil in intellectu quod non prius in sensu" — " nisi ipse intellectus." 

Locke asserts positively that all our ideas are obtained through two sources, Sensation 
and Reflection. Sensation gives the knowledge of sensible objects and their qualities 
of kno^wled^e 063 R efle ction gives the knowledge of spirit and its operations. He was careful to ad I 
that except through these two sources we have no ideas whatever. What Locke in- 
tended by idea* admits here of a question similar to that which was noticed in connection 
with innate ideas. Did he mean positively to exclude from ideas those necessary relations by which the 
mind connects all the objects of matter and spirit which it observes or experiences? It is probable that in 
laying down these leading positions, this distinction was not in his mind, and that for this reason he did 
not provide against uncertainty or ambiguity of interpretation. It was not unnatural that different con- 



520 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §531 

structions should be put upon doctrines thus announced, and that according to these diverse interpreta 
tions, there should spring up among his followers different schools of philosophy. 

One class of those who called themselves his disciples, by greatly limiting or almost 
setting aside his definition of reflection, interpreted him as teaching that all our posi- 
Condillac ana ^ ye j^eas are f material objects, and perverted his principle so as to make him teach a 
materialistic philosophy. Condillae thus applied his doctrine, and he derived from it 
the conclusion that all our ideas, whether those of sense or spirit, are simply trans- 
formed sensations. " Locke distingue deux sources de nos idees : les sens et la reflexion. II serait plus 
exact de n'en reconnaitre qu'une source, parce que la reflexion n'est dans son principe que la sensation elle- 
meme, soit parce qu'elle est moins la source des idees que le canal par le quel elles decoulent des sens." — 
Traile des Sensations. This doctrine, in the form in which it was taught by Condillae and by others of 
the French school, was long since abandoned, but tendencies to the same doctrine, if not the same opin- 
ions in respect to the nature and origin of mental activities and their products, retain their hold most 
tenaciously among many modern psychologists, such as J. S. Mill, and Alexander Bain, with others. 

Hume (Treatise on Human Nature. Part III. §§2, 3, 4, 14, 15. Inquiry concerning the 
Human Understanding. § 7.) applied the dictum of Locke in respect to the sources of 
tol^ocke 1 " 6 a 10n knowledge i n the analysis of the relation of causation, or as he called it, of the idea of 
Cause and Effect, and of Necessary Connexion. He first demonstrated, as it was easy to 
do, that this idea could not be gained from Sensation. He then inquires -whether it 
can be gained by Reflection, or the conscious experience which we have of the exercise of power in the 
production of effects by volition. To this he answers in the negative, experience giving us only the in- 
variable succession or the constant conjunction of these internal ideas. 

How then, he asks, does it happen that we connect objects as causes and effects, and what is the 
meaning of the combination 1 "We certainly do thus connect them, and we give to them as thus connected 
the names respectively of causes and effects. To his own question, he replies : Objects which are observed 
to be always conjoined, we invariably associate in our minds. "When we observe the one we cannot avoid 
thinking of the other. The principle of association is that which explains, and it is the only mental law 
that explains the combination of objects and events as causes and effects. 

The solution applied by Hume to the single relation of cause and effect, has since his 
. time been applied to the explanation of other of the so-called necessary truths or 
tional Scho S ol Cia " Primitive cognitions. Dugald Stewart used it to account for the belief that every 
visible or colored, i. e., every object involvesabeliefin,andanapprehension of, extension. 
Dr. Tliomas Brown carried it still farther, applying it to a great number of relations. 
James Mill, in his Analysis of the Human Mind, was the first to find in the doctrine of inseparable or in- 
dissoluble associations a solvent for all necessary beliefs and original conceptions. John Stuart Mill, his 
son, in his Logic and Examination of the Philosophy of Sir William Hamilton, has applied this principle 
in detail to all the so-called original and necessary truths with the conceptions which they involve. He 
has attempted by this single formula to show that mathematical conceptions and axioms are generalized 
from experience, that the universal and necessary belief in causation is to be accounted for by experience 
only, and results from associations that cannot be overcome or separated. Herbert Spencer, while on the one 
hand he earnestly contends that the inconceivability of the opposite is the decisive test of original truths, 
holds that these very axioms are our earliest inductions from experience. Moreover, he holds that the 
capacity of induction itself is the result of processes of association which descend from one generation to 
another, with an augmented tendency, till they acquire that irresistible force which excludes the con- 
ceivability of their opposite. All these writers may be said to belong to the school of Locke, but they receive 
only one or two of his leading doctrines and interpret them in a narrow spirit, and apply them to 
explain conceptions and beliefs to which Locke never thought of applying them. 

Dr. Tliomas Reid, with Hutcheson, Oswald, and Beattie, was aroused by the skeptical 
conclusions derived by Hume and Berkeley from the doctrines of Locke, to combat his 
Scottish School* P 1,inci P le as it had till then been interpreted— that all ideas are obtained from sensation 
or reflection— and to assert for the mind itself an independent power or source of 
knowledge. This power was called by them Common Sense, and to it was referred our 
belief in the original and fundamental elements of all knowledge. Reid was especially earnest in assert- 
ing the necessity of first principles as the foundations of knowledge in general and of every special science 
in particular. Of these principles there is a great variety— logical, grammatical, mathematical, moral, 
sesthelical, and metaphysical, as well as those facts given in the experiences of sense and consciousness. 
All these are discerned by that power which he called common sense, or sometimes judgment. The 
nature and the conditions of this faculty he did not exactly define, nor its relations to other powers, the 
laws of its acting, nor the character and place of its products. He was content to assert that there must be a 
source of this kind of knowledge independent of experience, and that these first truths are to be received 
upon its authority. Dugald Stewart followed Reid in insisting upon "fundamental laius of Human Be- 
lief," and "original elements of Human Knowledge." He subjected to further analysis some of thosa 
truths which were asserted by Reid to be original, and allowed to the law of association an influence which 
Iteid had not recognized. Brown deviated materially from Reid and Stewart in attaching greater im- 



§532. 



THEORIES OF INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE. 52 J 



portance, in his analysis of our conceptions, to the law of association. He resolved the relation of cause 
and, effect into that of invariable antecedence and succession. He occasionally refers to some origina 
belief or tendency to belief as necessary to explain our actual experience. He also distinctly recognizes 
a faculty or power called relative suggestion, which of itself originates or discerns certain original rela- 
tions ; making it, like Reid's judgment^ to be itself the originator and voucher for these original relation! 
or categories. His system is not always congruous or consistent with itself, inasmuch as he attributes 
greater authority at one time to the associational, and at another to the intuitional element. 

In France, Royer Col.la.rd and Jouffroy followed in general the method and the doctrine* 

of Iteid, with a more analytic scrutiny and a more systematic arrangement of the orig- 

School * lia * ^ a ^ a °^ knowledge. Each of these writers made some important improvements 

upon the doctrines of their teachers. 

Maine de Blran followed out the doctrine of Locke in respect to Reflection, and 

attempted to find m Reflection the source of some important first truths. He went further than Locke in 

this direction and borrowed from Leibnitz some important modifications of Locke's teachings in respect to 

the nature of force, and the essential activity of the mind as a discoverer of original and independent 

truth. Cousin sought to unite Reid, Collard, and Kant. 

These writers might perhaps be more properly grouped together as belonging to a separate school — 
the Scottish, or the Scottish and French School. But a more careful study of the doctrines of Locke reveals 
the fact that in the latter part of the Essay, when he came to analyze and account for the ideas of rela- 
tion, particularly of such primitive relations as substance, cause, and adaptation, he departs from the 
doctrines which he was supposed to have laid down in the preceding chapters. He certainly did not place 
that construction upon them which many of his disciples imposed alter his time. In accounting for these 
original ideas, he seems to ascribe them directly to the intellect itself, and to an original power to discern, 
and an original necessity to receive them as true. In short, without asserting, in form, any new source 
of ideas, and without in the least abandoning his previous teachings— while in reply to the objections 
which were brought against him for inconsistency, he earnestly defends his own consistency with himself 
— he does in fact take the same ground with Reid and the Scottish School. 

If this is a correct interpretation of Locke's real opinions, then Reid and his disciples are properly 
connected with the school of Locke, notwithstanding their earnest polemic against some of the doctrines 
which they supposed him to teach. 

§ 532. 5. From Hume and Reid, who were antagonist disciples in the school of Locke, 
we pass to the speculations of Kant and consider his views of first principles and the 
School a categories. Kant, like Reid, was aroused by the skepticism of Hume to investigate the 

foundations of knowledge. He saw that if the solution given by Hume of the relation 
of causation were accepted and applied to others which are as original and fundamen- 
tal, then scientific knowledge would be impossible, and religious faith would be unsupported by any ra- 
tional foundations. He therefore set himself to the work of examining, by critical analysis, the intel- 
lectual powers, to ascertain, if possible, whether knowledge d priori is necessary, and if so, what must be its 
original elements and authority. The result of his critical inquiries was as follows : The human intelleot 
may be considered as Sense, Understanding, and Reason, and to each of these powers or modes of action, 
there are elements d priori. To the Sense, space and time must be assumed as d priori conditions. If 
these are not thus assumed, neither perception nor consciousness could possibly gain the knowledge ap- 
propriate to each. Moreover, unless the knowledge of both space and time is d priori, the mathematical 
sciences would be impossible. 

The Understanding is the power of generalizing and logical reasoning. To this, certain forms of 
conception are also necessary as its d priori conditions, such as substance and attribute, and cause and effect. 
Without these forms d priori, the processes of the Understanding would be impossible and their products 
would be untrustworthy. 

The Reason is the power by which we give unity to our knowledge of both material and spmtual 
phenomena, as well in the several portions of each, as in these portions as mutually connected and related 
in a universe. To this unifying process, there must be assumed, as necessary presuppositions, certain ideas 
d priori, viz. : the soul, the world, and God. t 

The d priori elements of our knowledge, according to Kant, are the receptivities of space and time 
for the Senses; the forms or categories for the Understanding; and the ideas for the Reason. That these 
elements are assumed and applied iu all our higher knowledge, was shown by Kant to follow necessarily 
from the analysis of that knowledge which is gained by the intellect, and indirectly from the analysis of 
the operations of the intellect themselves. These were the positive results of his psychological analysis. 

But Kant raised another inquiry. Are these d priori and necessary assumptions themselves worthy 
of confidence ? Are they true and do they hold good of the nature of things, or do they 6imply arise from 
the constitution of the human intellect— a change in which might involve a change in these necessary rela- 
tions and in the knowledge which is built upon them? To these questions of his own asking, Kant makes 
the following reply : These assumptions have for man a regulative force, but perhaps only a relative truth 
and validity. That is, while man must act in his intellectual processes under the belief that these prin- 
ciples are primary and universal, and thus admit them as giving law to his own intellect, and as grounding 



522 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 533. 

and explaining all his knowledge, he is not authorized thereby to assume that they hold good as the laws 
sf minds which may be supposed to be constituted differently from those of human beings, or that they 
bold true of the knowledge which such beings acquire. On the one hand, we cannot deny that they dc 
hold true for other beings and their knowledge ; and on the other, we cannot deny that they do not. Eoi 
aught that we know, it may be true, that other beings may be so constituted as not to assume these prin- 
ciples or to know by means of the relations which they involve. ¥e cannot affirm that there are such 
beings. We cannot deny that these may be. "We cannot conceive how there should be. "We cannot imagine 
intellectual processes that do not run back into these relations and principles, nor can we conceive of any 
knowledge which is not held together by these relations, but we have no rational ground for denying 
that both are possible. 

This is the last result of the critical examination to which Kant subjected the speculative Reason. 
These views have had extensive currency among the philosophers of Germany and England, and the 
assertion of them has wrought like leaven, to stimulate inquiry and to excite to counter assertions. 
Many who would not accept them have found it difficult to show their groundlessness or their untruth, in 
part or in whole. Many philosophers who have followed Kant in his analysis of the foundations of our 
knowledge, have felt themselves constrained to enter a special protest against these views, or to seek to 
vindicate the counter theory. 

§ 533. The only part of Kant's theory with which we are here concerned is the 

Criticism of suggestion which he makes, that the relations and principles which we find to be 

Kant's skeptical . . , , , • , ' . _ , . f , % , 

conclusions. original and assume to be true for our own thinking and knowledge, are not necessarily 

true and valid for the thinking and knowledge of others. 

Concerning this we observe : 

(1.) It is a question of Speculative Philosophy or Metaphysics, and not at all a question 

of Psychology. Psychologically considered, the views of Kant do not differ materially 



The conclusion 



lative. irom those of other philosophers in this, that certain truths must be received as uni- 

versal and necessary, and that these are given to the mind d priori. It is one chief 
object of his critique to show that such principles are not obtained by experience, but must be assumed in 
order to make experience possible, as without them we could have neither experience nor science. So far 
as the analysis of the powers, the processes, or the products of the human mind is concerned, Kant is, in 
his general views, at one with all the best philosophers. 

That which he subjoins to this ascertained result of psychological analysis, is the suggestion that this 
may be true in human psychology only, and not in the psychology of other knowing beings. "Whatever 
may be the probability or reasonableness of this suggestion, it is in no sense a psychological fact. It is 
purely a philosophical thesis, to be urged and defended on speculative grounds , but which cannot in any 
sense be paid to be given by the analysis of the workings of the souls of other possible races or kinds of 
beings, or of the products which they have evolved. 

(2.) This metaphysical suggestion or thesis is unsupported by any grounds of analogy 
or probability. The facts which suggested the analysis are the known changes in the 
a^lo°v Ga objects of sense-perception, which are connected with known changes in the organism 

of the percipient or in the medium by which the percipient apprehends. These changes 
are most conspicuous in vision. An object seen through a colored lens, be it red or 
green or blue, is seen to be red or green or blue. In like manner, the color of objects is, to a limited ex- 
tent, affected by changes in the physical condition of the eye. Some men, through disease, see objects 
variously colored. Others are incapable of seeing any differences of color, or at best, only a few varieties. 
Upon analogies derived from these facts, Kant justifies himself in asserting that there may or might 
exist created or finite minds which know objects without the relations of time, space, substance, causality, 
or design. To this it is enough to reply that the facts from which these suggestions are derived are phe- 
nomena of the corporeal organism — while the acts and objects to which they are applied by way of analogy 
pertain to the pure intellect. "We know moreover of the phenomena of the organism, that the corporeal 
organism is a factor which, with material conditions, not only presents the object for the mind to perceive, 
but makes it to be what it is to a certain extent, so that the object changes with its changing factors and 
conditions. But to these thought or intellectual relations no such conditions are required. Certainly the 
objects are not known to change with any conditions. So far as these relations are applied to material 
beings it makes no difference what the objects are. Many are equally applicable to spiritual beings, and 
their phenomena, products, and trustworthiness cannot be weakened or set aside by analogies derived 
from material beings and phenomena. 

All positive ground for finding or applying any analogies of the kind utterly fails. 

(3.) The suggestion of Kant is inconsistent with, and overthrown by, the reach and 
It is self - de- necessary use of some of these very relations which are brought into distrust. It is 
structive and open to the charge of being an intellectual felo de se. For example, all the positive 
suicidal. ground for the suggestion, founded upon an analogy which we have shown to be invalid 

because irrelevant, rests upon one of thec-e first truths themselves, one of these very 
original relations, which Kant subjects to metaphysical doubt, as to whether it may not be merely con- 
tingent upon the human constitution. "We cannot but observe that the question which he raises, is whethei 



§535. 



THEOEIES OP INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE. 523 



knowledge by these relations as a subjective process, and the relations themselves as an objective fact, 
may not be and probably is, an effect of which the human constitution is a cause. "We notice also that the 
reason by which he supports his suggestion is, that we are justified in so interpreting— which we have 
shown is misinterpreting — certain signs or indications furnished by analogous phenomena. In this argu- 
ment it will be obvious to all our readers who accept the analysis which we have given of induction, that 
the assumptions which he contends are only regulative are used and applied by him as though they were 
real. He certainly applies with entire confidence, the relations of cause and effect as necessarily and really 
pertinent to the constitution of man as viewed by all beings, and wholly omits to notice that he has 
already suggested that these relations as necessarily employed in human thinking, are merely contingent 
upon the operation of that thinking, and may not belong to the constitution of the soul as viewed or 
known by any other being, whether creature or Creator. 

This is not all. Not only are they used as though they were real, but they are used as real in order 
to prove that they are only regulative. He reasons thus : Upon the validity of the principles to which I 
must conform as the laws of my human thinking, do I conclude that it is more than probable that they 
are true of human thinking only. That is, in the very argument that they need apply only to the processes 
and objects of human thinking, he applies them to both processes and objects of thinking which are not 
human. How convincing and consistent such reasoning is it is easy to see. 

§ 534. 6. From Kant to Hamilton the transition is natural, because the connection be* 
Hamilton's Pos- t^een their views is most intimate. Hamilton, holds that our native cognitions are 
itive and Nega- both Universal and Necessary. The Necessity of a cognition may, however, be of two 
tive Necessity. species. It may be either Positive or Negative. It may either result from the power 
of the thinking principle, or from the powerlessness of the same to think otherwise. 
Of Positive Cognitions he says : " To this class belong the notion of existence and its modifications, the 
principles of identity, contradiction, and excluded middle, the intuitions of space and time." All these 
are discerned by the mind by a necessity which positively pertains to the objects discerned and in the 
reality of which the mind absolutely confides. 

To the other class belong the relations of Substance and Phenomena, and of Cause and Effect. 
These are necessary through the imbecility of the mind to conceive of existence in any other way than 
under these relations ; which necessity, however, is felt to result from the mind's imbecility to think 
otherwise, and not to represent a positive relation. This necessity is only a special case of the application 
of the more general law of the conditioned, which in its turn is described as the necessity which constrains 
the mind to think of every object as a medium between two extremes, each of which are mutually con- 
tradictories of one another and so both cannot be true, while yet the mind must think the object undei 
one of the two. 

The exposition and discussion of this Law of the Conditioned may be deferred till we consider its 
application to the special conceptions and relations of Substance and Phenomena, and of Cause and Effect. 

It is enough to say here, that if it mean any thing, it seems to be in its principle the same with the 
doctrine of Kant, that certain cognitions are necessary to the mind because of its peculiar constitution, 
which would no longer be so in case this constitution were changed or other than it is. They are there- 
fore Regulative only, that is, they control the actions of the human mind and their products, because we 
cannot avoid employing them, knowing all the while that we are obliged to do this because we are finite. 
They are true relatively, i. e., true only in relation to our limited capacities. 

TVe urge against it substantially the same objections to which the doctrine of Kant is liable, viz. :' 
that we must use these very conceptions which are said to be merely Regulative and Relative, in the very 
judgments which we form of the mind itself and its processes ; and again, its tendency is skeptical, like 
that of Kant. It ought to be regarded with distrust if for no other reason than that it introduces contra- 
diction between the decisions and dicta of the separate activities of the intellect. 

§ 535. 7.*To meet, or rather, to shut off, the difficulties propounded by Kant, and in 
The theory of p ar fc asse nted to bv Hamilton, Faith has been proposed as the source of certain original 
Earth as con- ^ .. , J . ».■,.*««.«•,. , • x ^ 

trasted with conceptions and primary beliefs. Sometimes Jtelxng, or some act more akin to the 

knowledge. emotive than to the intellectual powers, has been urged as the originator and voucher 

of the primary beliefs, and indirectly of the knowledge which is built upon them. This 
faith or feeling has most usually had for its object or objects, the Absolute or the Infinite, and the Uncon- 
ditioned, rather than the special conceptions under which finite objects are thought by the mind and the 
primary relations by means of which these objects are classified and connected. God, the Soul, Time, 
Space, Immortality— have been usually the objects which it is asserted are received by this original assent 
of Faith or Feeling. Sometimes the moral relations have been conceived as the direct object of the soul's 
apprehension, together with God and the soul. The tendency to cut the knot which an intellectual analysis 
has failed to untie, is most conspicuous as perpetually reappearing in the whole history of modern phi- 
losophy. The need of an ultimate and decisive authority for our confidence in the actings of the soul, has 
often prompted to a coup de main, by which some usurping power, under the fairest names, has seated 
itself in the place of rule, and the usurpation has been acquiesced in for the time by the temporary peace 
and order which has followed in the intellectual convictions and the received systems of science, morality 
and theology. 



524 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 535 

Descartes, having vainly sought for some criterion of truth which should assure him 

that his senses did not deceive him, and that his judgments in regard to his spiritua. 
Le"cates operations might be trusted, found repose in the veracity and benevolence of the Great 

Creator, of whose existence he was assured by the innate idea which attests both hi s 

existence and his perfection. This being given, the cognitions and inferences of thn 
intellectual faculty are to be trusted when they are properly tested by the criteria or norms which the 
Creator himself has provided. 

Kant, after despairing to find in the speculative Reason any warrant for trusting those 
By Kant in his necessary cognitions which are universal to all men and assumed d priori as the con- 
Practical Rea- ditions of all experience and all science, finds in the categorical imperative of the 
son ' Practical Reason a voucher for the law of Duty. Unconditional faith in Duty is the 

corner-stone of his system, the only sure foundation which he can find among the ruins 
into which he had disintegrated the structures of the merely speculative Intellect, and upon which he can 
rebuild the same structure and make it compact and safe. Faith in Duty requires faith in God to defend 
and reward Duty. Hence the same Practical Reason which commands us categorically (i. e., uncondition- 
ally and without asking or finding reasons or grounds) to believe in Duty, commands us to believe there is 
a true and perfect God. But such a God will not deceive his creatures. He is the voucher that we may trust 
the speculative testimony of the Reason which he has constructed and created, concerning those conceptions 
and relations which it originates and requires ; and that we may assign them the place which they take 
and hold in our knowledge, not as being merely a priori assumptions under which we are obliged to think, 
but as being fundamental truths which we must accept as real. By the Practical Reason we make these 
forms of thought by which we must regulate our thinking, to become the representatives of those forma 
of being which control the world of reality. 

Jacobi felt the difficulties in which Kant involved himself and the minds of his gene- 
By Jacobi un- ration, but was not content with the solution which he furnished. He adopted another, 
der various ti- similar in principle, indeed, but slightly varied in its applications. To the power of 
tles - apprehending that which is primarily and unconditionally true, he gave the names, at 

first of Faith, afterwards of Feeling and the Revelation of the Divine, and last of all, 
of Reason Proper. The objects which this power apprehends are neither primarily nor exclusively moral 
relations, but the objects of sense and consciousness with the relations which they involve, as truly as 
God, the Soul, and Immortality. These are all received by the direct faith of the soul, and this faith and 
the truth of what it receives is the precondition of all analysis, inference and deduction. In all these 
processes we simply distinctly analyze and clearly explicate what is given to faith impliedly and as a whole. 
Jacobi simply asserted these principles as the foundation truths of all knowledge. He did not show 
how they could be true or why we believe them. Indeed, he despaired of any such analysis. He did not 
feel adequate to illustrate them in the detail ; but he rested in their truth. 

Schleiermacher recognized feeling — the feeling of dependence— as the ground and medium 
Schleiermach- °^ a ^ *^ e knowledge of the absolute that we can attain. But we cannot conceive of 
er's feeling of God or define our concepts of him. All efforts in this direction, as well as their results, 
dependence. are entirely inadequate and misleading. So far he is at one with Jacobi. "With him 

he makes feeling or faith the ground of our apprehension of the Infinite and Divine. 
In respect to our knowledge of and faith in the conceptions that are fundamental to finite knowledge — he 
'would be foremost to assert that these are d priori conditions and assumptions of the intellect, and that 
nature herself is constructed in correspondence with these forms of human thought. "We have therefore 
the amplest ground for trusting the processes that are essential to our higher knowledge and the results to 
which they conduct us. The relations of finite existence, including those of space and of time, of 
substance and attribute, of cause and effect, were considered by Schleiermacher forms of existence, or real 
forms in contradistinction to the subjective forms of Kant and Fichte and the notion forms of Hegel. 
These are apprehended by the intellect directly, or, in the phraseology of his system, by the intellectual 
function, to which, operating in connection with the organic function, all the forms of finite knowledge are 
to be referred. 

Some of the more recent German philosophers, as Chalybseus, Reiff, and preeminently 

Lolze, rest their confidence in the fundamental assumptions of the human intellect, upon 

C ha 1 y b a e u s, e ^ ca i grounds. The questions propounded by Kant, viz. : ' Suppose after all that the 
Reiff, and Lotze. . °, „ \ _. ,, .. .. . , * , ,, , ., ,. . 

constitution of your nature should itself not be trustworthy when it causes and impels 

you to think according to these original forms and fundamental assumptions ? Suppose 

that there should be no reality in the relations or forms of things, which seem to correspond to the 

relations or forms by which you think ? ' they answer thus : ' We must believe that nature is benevolent in 

her indications and therefore true. ¥e assume that goodness and veracity regulate both the objective 

relations of the universe which we study and the subjective constitution of the intellect which interprets 

it. For these reasons we rely upon the categories of both thought and being, and learn and think in 

accordance with them, trusting the results which we gain.' 



§538. 



THEORIES OP INTUITIVE KNOWLEDGE. 525 



As Hamilton (as we have seen), in his views of the extent and limits of our knowledge, 
This theory followed both Kant and Schleiennacher, so he borrowed from both the required solu- 
sanctioned by tion. While he asserts that we cannot think the infinite and unconditioned, because te 
Hamilton also. think is to limit and to condition, he concedes that we know the same. But when askei 
how ? he replies, by faith. "We must believe it to be. Tbe extremes of our knowledge, 
between which we form our concepts — and out of the relations of which we form our concepts— we must 
believe exist and are related to one another. The fact of their necessary existence we receive by a direet 
insight, which he calls both faith and knowledge. He borrows from Kant conceptions that are appropriate 
to the Practical Reason — so far at least as ethical distinctions, moral liberty and a personal G-od are con- 
cerned. From Jacobi he adopts the term faith in application to tbe whole subject. With the doctrine of 
Schleiermaker the details of his theory of the Unconditioned are closely allied. Cf. Hamilton, Met. Lee, 
38. Also, Appendix v. Letter to Calderwood, 

That which gives plausibility to the doctrine that Faith or Feeling is the ultimate 
"Reasons why it ground of this kind of knowledge is that it is not received by any act of conscious 
is plausible. assent to propositions, of which the elementary concepts are first distinctly apprehended 

apart and then united, but the mind is impelled to form separate concepts by means of 
and under certain general relations. The belief or conviction that prompts to this is 
developed to the mind when it reflects upon what it finds itself performing. Hence the act is called faith 
in opposition to and in distinction from judgment, the last being supposed to involve analysis as well as 
combination. Ethical and religious objects are those which most frequently bring it into exercise, and 
these invariably excite more or less feeling. Hence the special source of these convictions is conceived as 
something not intellectual, and the terms faith and feeling are applied to it. The oversight lies in making 
these terms to imply that the act is not intellectual. It is preeminently an intellectual act and power, for 
it conditions all the special acts and cognitions of which the intellect is capable. 

§ 536. 8. The immediate successor of Kant was J. G. Fichte, whose system was pro- 
posed as a modification and improvement of that which was taught in the Critique of 
J. G. Fichte. the Pure Reason. Fichte derived all knowledge, the materials as well as the forms, the 

& posteriori and the a priori, from the activity of the Ego. Every thing which the 
mind knows, being as well as relations, so far as it is known, is the work of the Ego, 
and evolved from its own creative activity. 

So far as the categories of thought are concerned, Fichte endeavors to show that each one of them is 
necessarily involved in the several concrete creative acts by which the Ego constructs for itself the known 
universe. Its first act is to affirm its own being. But in that it must apply and evolve the law or relation 
of identity, A= A. Its second act is to affirm the non-ego. But this in like manner involves the law of 
contradiction, (A) is not (non-A). The third is to recognize the indivisible Ego as opposed to a divisible 
non-Ego. This involves the reciprocal activity of each on the other, and this implies the relation of 
Causative efficiency. The other relations are all evolved in a similar way by the productive activity oi 
the Ego, together with the non-Ego which this activity calls forth. Time and space, substance and 
attribute, reality, possibility and necessity, etc., etc., are all accounted for by the creative activity of 
the Ego, as it proceeds from the simpler to the more complex processes and products of human knowl- 
edge. 

§ 537. 9. Schelling follows Fichte— by the effort to mediate between him and Kant— so 
Schelline's ^ ar as ^° P rov lde for a common origination and relationship for the subjective and ob- 
view of the cat- jective. His intellectual intuition recognizes at first the indifference of both, from 
egories. which it develops in correspondence to one another the forms of thought and the forms 

of being. The authority for the categories in this double application must be in this 
intuition which affirms them to be common to the two. In his later philosophy, which was modified to 
avoid and displace the logical idealism of Hegel, Schelling assumes the reality of concrete and actual 
being, and teaches the mind's competence to originate and affirm necessary and original relations only in 
their application to and by occasion of supposed concrete knowledge. For this reason he asserted for 
these d priori relations and for philosophy itself, what he called only a negative value. 

§ 538. 10. Hegel substituted thought for Schilling's intellectual intuition, i. e., that 
mental activity which produces and is concerned with the concept or logical notion ; but 
of mire thought made a fata l mistake by conceiving that thought, viz., abstract thinking could be ex- 
plained independently of concrete knowledge and actual being, and that the former 
could explain the latter by the relations of pure or abstract thought. He was therefore 
compelled, by logical consistency, to endeavor to evolve and explain every form of actual being by the 
development or evolution of the notion from within itself. 

The categories or the original and necessary relations of knowledge, according to Hegel, are all the 
relations which are necessarily evolved in the process by which simple, i. c, abstract being is developed 
into all the forms of thought and existence, and through them all, till the absolute is attained, i. e., till the 
process is complete and with it the cycle of the original relations or categories which are required for its 
evolution. 



526 THE HUMAN - INTELLECT. §541. 

§ 539. 11. According to Herbart, some of the categories are the products of the 
action and reaction of ideas. They are not the necessary laws or forms of the 
Herbart s mind's knowledge, but are the growth and result of its psychological functions as deter- 

mined by the laws which govern the formation and mutual action of the results of the 
impressions made upon the soul by matter, and the soul's reaction against them. 
These results are perceptions or representations. Concepts, or general notions, arise only when a number 
of similar objects have been perceived. In their struggle for reappearance the differing elements crowd one 
another out of view, and only those are apparent which, being alike, reinforce one another, and so survive 
the struggle. The conceptions of Space and Time are series of reproduced objects, the parts of which 
are more or less indistinct, as they stand related to the here and the now. A thing or being and its 
attributes, is either an original whole analyzed into its constituent parts, giving the attribute of quality, 
or a whole with its attendant series of time and space accompaniments giving the attribute of quantity. 
The successful connection of these attendant parts or accessory series is affirmation— the unsuccessful ia 
negation— both these involve the two forms of judgment or the apprehension of relations. 

The relations of substance to attributes and of cause and effect are inconsistent with the logical laws 
of identity and contradiction, which are assumed by Herbart to be original and independent laws of 
thought. To remove these inconsistencies is the object of his metaphysical system. This he essays to do 
by " the method of relations." It would seem that the logical laws are the only categories, properly con- 
sidered, which Herbart accepts, for the reason that these logical criteria are applied by him as the fixed 
rules and original measures by which every other relation is tried and tested. 

§ 540. 12. Trendelenburg has not only subjected the doctrines of Hegel and Herbart to 
Trendelen- an acu t e an d comprehensive criticism, and in so doing has vindicated that realism 
burg's theory of which is equally essential to the common sense of every-day life aud the scientific confi- 
motion. dence of the inductive schools, but he has given special prominence to the importance 

of final cause in its relations to the sciences of nature, as well as to metaphysical and ethi- 
cal truth. He has been equally successful in criticising the speculations of such as derive the catego- 
ries from the necessary and independent relations of pure thinking, and the dogmas of those who find 
their origin in the empirical processes of psychological experience or the formalistic dicta of an irrespon- 
sible logic. But most of all has he been distinguished for the ingenious and able derivation of the cate- 
gories of thought and being, of spirit and matter, of space and time, from that universal and all-pervading 
motion which is common to all. Those who hesitate to accept his dogma in every application which he 
makes of it, will not question that he has at least made good the thesis that physical motion and its mental 
analogon furnish the ultimate elements that are employed in the constructions of the creative imagina- 
tion and of synthetic thought ; that motion contributes the material by which mathematical creations and 
metaphysical definitions can be represented in language and enshrined in those definitions and propositions 
by which they are the permanent possessions of the race. 



CHAPTER in. 

FORMAL RELATIONS OR CATEGORIES. 



Following the classification of categories or intuitions which we have adopted and explained 
(§ 524), we begin with those which we have defined as formal. These are so-called 
because they are involved in every form of knowledge : they are essential to its very 
form, and are therefore called formal. Whatever may be the mode of an act of knowl- 
edge subjectively viewed, or whatever may be that with which it is occupied when 
objectively considered, it must involve these relations in its very nature and essence. 
They are not the less real than the other relations, but they do not require real objects in 
order that they should exist. A represented image, a mathematical construction, and a 
thought-concept not only admit but require them, and they are common and essential to 
them all. 

§ 541. The intuition with which we begin is the intuition of 
The^atcgory of Mn ^ This win be readi i y acknowledged to be the most 

extensive of all in its application, and therefore fundamental 



§ 542. FOEMAL RELATIONS OE CATEGOEIES. 527 

to all others. Every thing which we know, we know to exist. To know 
is impossible and inconceivable, if it does not involve the certainty that 
that which is known, exists or is. Being is the correlate of knowledge. 

Hence, this concept is apparently fundamental to all others. 
^dlmrataf 186 I* belongs to every object with which the mind has to do in 

knowledge, and it belongs to each with equal propriety — to 
Him whom we call, in the poverty of our languages, the Being of beings, 
and to the most transient and trivial creation of the humblest of his 
creatures ; to the universe in the most comprehensive meaning of the term, 
and to the mathematical point which is the product of the thought of a 
moment. It is applied to actual existences, to intellectual creations, whether 
individual or universal ; to all things and to all thoughts. 

The beings that are known are of different sorts, and they are known b\ 
Beings of differ- different modes of apprehension. There are beings spiritual, and beings 
ent sorts. material. In each of these classes there are beings which remain for ages, 

and those which exist only for an instant. But the difference in the kind 
and the endurance of that which is, does not make the object any the less to exist. Being as 
properly belongs to the one as to the other. 

We sometimes dignify the being which, is independent and permanent with the as sertion that this only 
or truly has being, or only and truly is ; but this is by a metaphor only, and does not in the least affect the 
proper import of the term or of the concept for which it stands. The positive existence of the object, but 
neither its dignity nor its duration, is expressed by the word. 

The nature and import of being is not at all affected by the manner in which 

Being appre- ft j s apprehended or known to exist. Some being is known by direct sense- 

h ended m differ- rj ^ . 

ent ways. perception or immediate consciousness ; in other words, by presentative 

knowledge. Other being is known by indirect or representative knowledge, 
as the moon that is pictured by the mind, or that is generalized as a concept. In represented 
being, it is presented being which is recalled or generalized. The being which is directly 
known as actually knowable or as possibly existing is always supposed or implied as giving 
interest and import to that which is recalled. The moon which we picture, is pictured as an 
actually existing moon. The scene which we remember or imagine, is remembered or im- 
agined as an actually occurring scene. Even the mathematical entity which we construct, 
or the general concept which we frame, must be carried back to some concrete being or 
beings to be interpreted and understood. 

§ 542. It is the most abstract of all possible concepts. 
stract of In the After every property or relation which we know of an 

object is set aside from any existing thought or thing, there 
remains the affirmation it is. This cannot be thought away. For this 
reason it is logically the first or the most elementary of all concepts. As 
it is the last which we reach by analysis, it is the first with which our 
synthesis begins. 

Concrete or presented being, gives all its meaning to abstract or represented 
Explained by being. The mind interprets generalized being by its previously experienced 
concrete being. Qr j tg tacitly assumed knowledge of presented being. Hegel begins the 

development and explanation of our real knowledge with the concept of being 
in the abstract, and seeks to construct and develop from this the conceptions and knowledge 



528 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §544, 

of real existence, and the relations which it involves. In doing this, he is obliged to interpret 
his meaning by a tacit assumption of that which he formally ignores and denies — i. e., to draw 
upon direct and presented knowledge for the interpretation of the conceptions and relations 
which he professes to develop and account for. The attempt is vain ; the method is false ; 
the problem is impossible. There is no knowledge of being, or of the relations of being in 
general or in the abstract, except by means of knowledge in the concrete. 

Psychologically, the knowledge of being in the concrete precedes that of 
SncreUKg^s Deir| g in tne abstract. We know individual beings before we know being as 
first apprehend- a concept. We perceive individual things by sense ; we are conscious of 

our individual ego and its individual states ; we remember and imagine these 

and other individual entities long before we comprehend them or any group of them as under 

the general concept being. Even if it be conceded that, to the infant perception, the material 

'iniverse presents itself as one undistinguished and undivided being, it would be known as an 

vidual ; the one universe and not as generalized. 

Logically, or, more properly, metaphysically, the concept being is the first 
Logically it ig and most fundamental of all the concepts, because it is the most extensively 
fundamental . applied, and is the highest of our generalizations (§ 523). But it cannot be 

understood as a concept, except by our knowledge of individual objects. To 
begin with the concept in the abstract, excluding that knowledge which interprets and makes it 
clear, is literally to begin with nothing. To attempt to develop from it actual being, is to 
give an example by failure, of the truth, ex nihilo nihil jit I 

The apprehen- § 54 3. The knowledge of being is expressed by judgments 
pr^sedkJpropo- or propositions, the subjects of which are whatever is known 
sitions. ^y an y single acts of the intellect. We tacitly assert or 

think of every such object it or this, is or exists. We afterward general- 
ize that which is predicated under the concept — being. 

Being or existence is not, however, an attribute or a relation, though it is 
Being not a re- conceived or treated as such when it is thus generalized. It is obvious that 
bute. being must be assumed in order that an attribute or relation may be 

known. Relations without beings related, or the knowledge of relations or 
attributes without the knowledge of beings to which these relations or attributes belong, are 
impossible and inconceivable. When being is generalized, however, it is treated as a property 
or attribute of each concrete existence of which it is affirmed. We say and think this or that 
has being or existence. We say it is an existing thing. We even turn it into an 
ahstractum, as we do other properties and relations, and speak of beingncss or entity. Yet 
the incongruity of the language and of the conception is apparent when we undertake to carry 
it out by affirming entity or beingness of an object. 

§ 544. Like every intuition, being cannot be defined — i. e. 9 
it^cannot be de- ana ly ze d or resolved into any more elementary constituents. 

It can be described, however, by means of the conditions or 
circumstances under which ifc is present to the mind. When we ask, 
What is being ? we cannot answer in the way of definition. But we can 
say, whenever we know we apprehend being. In every act of knowledge 
is involved assent to, or certainty of being. By knowing we are in a 
situation to understand, though we cannot define, the import of the con- 
cept. * 



g 545. POEMAL RELATIONS OR CATEGORIES. 529 

The act of knowing is supposed to be more familiar than the concepts which it implies. 
We exercise this activity more frequently and more readily than we reflectively analyze its 
known objects. For this reason we explain the concept being by the act which implies and 
contains it. When we closely consider what to know involves, we find that the apprehension 
of being must always be implied in the act of knowledge. 

It was said (§ 390) that all concepts are founded on attributes or relation? 
It is conceived generalized, and that the only difference between nouns and adjectives arises 
an attribute. '• from their use and not their meaning ; the same content being present in 

every case — a content of attributes only. How, then, it might be urged, is it 
possible that there should be any concept of being at all if being is not only not an attribute, 
but is the direct contrast of an attribute and must be supposed to make an attribute conceivable 
or possible ? This inquiry has in part been answered. In order to be turned into a concept, 
being is treated as an attribute ; it is predicated of the individuals to which it belongs as 
though it were a predicable. The attempt is made to define — i. e., to describe it by its 
relation to the act of knowledge, or the activity of the knowing agent. The word being, in 
its etymology, is also taken from some one of the attributes of those existences which are 
the most permanent — which existences or entities are conceived as having the best right or 
claim to be so used, as to stand, etc., etc. 

§ 545. Simple being is a concept wholly indeterminate. It 
terminate con- stands for it self and for not^g besides. Being elementary 

and logically original, it can be resolved into no other, and, 
of course, can be defined by no other. It is supposed in every other. It 
must be assumed to determine every other. We must begin with being, 
before we can add a single characteristic to make it a concept more definite. 

This is what Hegel had in mind in his assertion : Being or entity is equal to 

Hegel makes be- nothing. It is equivalent to a notion without content. As an abstract Gon- 
mg equal to a ^ 

nothing. ception, it has no relations to any other concept, and consequently no attri- 

butes ; it is wholly undefined. By viewing it as abstracted from all concrete 
import, it has no content at all ; it means nothing ; all its meaning must lie in its relation to 
some other concept, and until it is viewed in such a relation it has no positive import at all. 
That Hegel was wrong in this assertion, will be shown in its place. We notice here only what 
he must have had in mind. 

Being, the un determinate, immediate object of knowledge, is in fact nothing, no more nor less. 
Nothing is [has] the same determination, or rather, absence of determination with, and, for that reason, 
is equivalent to simple entity. Logic, vol. i p. 22. Encyc, p. 101. 

The common sense of man which resists the doctrine that being and nothing are identical, and ap- 
peals to some object of experience immediately present, finds in this very object some determinate beings 
that is being with a negation, i. e., the very unity which it rejects. Log. vol. i. p. 30. Encyc, p. 406. 

But though being, as a concept, and in its relation to other concepts, is 
Not without indeterminate, it is not without signification. It is taken from and affirmed 
signification. f an( j j n t er p re ted by, individual beings which we actually know by direct 

knowledge. The formation and use of this concept presupposes and rests 
aponthis knowledge. Though abstract being, as a concept, is elementary, undefined, and equal 
to non-entity, yet, as related to individual beings, it signifies something positive, and, indeed, 
many positive somethings. Though being denotes no particular thing, it does not denote 
a thing actually not existing — non-entity — but is equally applicable to every positive — i. e. to 
all entities whatsoever. 
34 



530 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. g 547. 

§ 546. Referring to our analysis of the act of knowing, we 
DiySi?y! up ' ^ n ^ tnat ^ involves the discernment of relations as truly and 

as essentially as it does the apprehension of being. This 
introduces to us relationship in its widest acceptation. But relationship 
involves diversity and distinguishability in the concept produced, and 
negation or distinction as the judgment or proposition by which it is 
discerned and affirmed. 

Two entities — i. 6., objects apprehended — are essential to the apprehen- 
sion of a connecting relation. But if the two are known, they must be 
distinguished — i. e., known as different from each other, in order that 
they may be again connected. The knowledge of objects, as different or 
diverse, must always be present with the apprehension of any other rela- 
tion. 

It follows that the relation which is the most extensive of all 
molt extensive! 6 others, is the relation of diversity or difference. It is always 

present with every other. It may not always be distinctly 
recognized, but it is always recognizable in every positive relation, whether 
formal, mathematical, or real. 

The same truth is asserted in the proposition, that every act of knowledge is at once an 
act of analysis and of synthesis. In every single act of knowledge we separate — i. e., dis- 
tinguish — in order that we may combine. We can only unite so far as we separate. 

This truth is confirmed, if we refer to various kinds or species of knowledge. In each 
Present in all °^ tiiese we distinguish as we unite. In sense-perception we distinguish colors, sounds, 
forms of knowl- tastes, feels, and gather them into one ohject. In consciousness we distinguish the 
&< ^S e ' actor from the act, and both from the object, and unite them somehow in a single men- 

tal experience. Certainly we place them together in a single undivided instant of time. 
In memory and generalizing, in deduction and induction, we unite what we have already distinguished, 
or what we distinguish in the act of uniting. 

We repeat what has been already laid down, that entities, in order to be distinguished, need not 
exist apart, i. e., not in the common sense of the term to exist. The angles and sides of a triangle can- 
not exist nor be constructed apart from each other, and yet they can be most readily distinguished. 
The moon which I picture in the mind cannot exist except by the act of the mind which imagines it, 
the attribute cannot exist apart from the substance to which it belongs, the cause cannot act as a cause 
without passing into the effect ; but all these are readily distinguished the one from the other. 

Our analysis of Being, i. e., of Being as a concept or Being in general, has compelled us to recog- 
nize also Being in the concrete, or individual Being, and the one as related to the other, the one as sup- 
posing the other, and the one as explaining the other. In this explanation two relations are supposed, 
those of diversity and of similarity. If there is more than one concrete Being, one is diverse from the other. 
If both are alike Beings, i. e., are comprehended under the concept Being, they must be alike at least in that 
they are both knowable. In brief, diversity and similarity are everywhere present. 

§ 547. We return to diversity and negation. The relation 
proportion.™ a °f difference or diversity is expressed by the proposition, 

this "being is not that. A is not B, or B is not A ; the color 
is not the taste, the taste is not the color ; the pictured moon is not the 
mind, the mind is not the moon which it pictures. I am not the object 
seen or tasted, etc., etc. It does not signify with which of the objects we 
begin — which of the two we treat as the subject, and which as the predi- 
cate of the proposition. 



§ 547. FORMAL RELATIONS OR CATEGORIES. 531 

The act of mind which we express by the proposition, is called an 
act of denial or negation; i. €., when the relation of difference is expressed 
in the form of a proposition, the act is an act of negation. The natural 
form of a positive judgment is also the proposition, which is of course 
affirmative. 

It will be remembered that these propositions are all individual propo- 
sitions, and that none of them are or can be general. The individual goes 
before the general in these propositions of relation, as in all others. 

From the recognition and affirmation of relations are evolved 

Relative no- , . 

ticms. Negative what are called relative concepts or notions. From the 

notions. . .. -,.-, -i . n t 

negative propositions which express the relation of diversity 
are produced what are termed negative concepts. 

No sooner is A distinguished from B, than we can apply to it the 
negative notion of not-B. In the same way reciprocally, the negative 
notion not-A can be affirmed of B. These notions are purely relative. 
The whole content or import which they express, is limited to the single 
relation in which they stand to the other object, which other object, A or 
B, as the case may be, is supposed to be positively known. 

In like manner, other relative notions may be formed, as if we take a substance and it 
puts us to sleep, we conceive the unknown something which produces this effect as sleep- 
making ; that is, we need know it no further than by its relation to this effect. The only 
notion which we have of it may be purely relative to the known effect. 

The negative relation, as indeed any relative notion, is at first apprehended as 
At first individ- individual, and then generalized. No sooner is A pronounced to be not-B, 
generalized! ' ^ ian we proceed to apply this to C, D, E, F, etc., as well as to A — indeed, to 
all objects except B itself. We need know nothing more of them than that 
they are, to be justified in classing them all as not-Bi, or in affirming of them the negative 
concept thus generalized. This is the ground of the division of all real and conceivable things 
by dichotomy, as it is called. 

It will be observed, however, that negation expresses a relation between two actual 
beings, or two beings treated or conceived as real. It supposes two positives known or 
conceived, each of which is thought as related negatively to the other. 

But after the relation of diversity has been acquired by or developed to the mind, it is 
possible to attach it to any single notion positively known, without cognizing any object which 
it designates. For example : To any notion as chalk, marble, white, merciful, financial, 
spiritual, the negative particle may be attached, indicating some reality or realities diverse 
from this positive ; as the negatively relative notion, not-chalk, not-marble, not-white, not- 
merciful, not-financial, not-spiritual. The concept, in its import, includes only diversity from 
the several positives known. But it implies that there are or may be other positives which 
belong under it or to its extent. It is sometimes said that the mind can form a positive notion 
of a negative object. A closer inspection will show that a positive notion of a negative object 
or of a pure negation, is impossible. A negative object or negative term indicates only some 
real or possible object or objects in a negative relation. 

We can, indeed, form a negative notion of every object positively known, by attaching 
to it a negative particle ; but we do this on the supposition that it represents some positive 
objects that are knowable because they are real. 



532 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 547 

The concept nothing — nonentity, is a purely relative concept. All beings ot 
The concept entities > whether real or imaginary, are grouped under the most general of 
nothing. all concepts. To this is attached the relation of negation. What is express- 

ed, is the proposition that the concept is exhaustive, and that it is impossible 
to conceive or believe in any thing beside, i. e., should the mind attempt to form a concept of any 
object not included under being, it would not succeed : there is not an object to which the con- 
cept could be applied : there is not a thing, not a being, not an entity besides. By a fiction 
of speech and of imagination, this proposition is contracted into the concept nothing — nonentity 
— as though there were a really existing object negatively related to being. 

When Hegel asserts that the concept being or entity equals nothing in its 
Hegel's view of i m P ort > ne ^ as m mind that it is a concept which cannot be analyzed into any 
nothing. constituent concept or thought-element : it is therefore unrelated to any 

other ; it is undetermined : it has no notional or conceptual import. So far 
from being true that this concept has no import, no concept has an import so extensive. Its 
import is found in the various forms of direct knowledge, which give the material and meaning 
to every concept, and a reference to which is supposed every time the concept being is used. 

The nothing or nonentity by which Hegel seeks in a sense to define the concept Being or Entity, is 
simply the concept itself viewed in its relation to every other concept, and also to every object of direct 
and individual knowledge. It is simply the proposition contracted into a concept, that being or entity, is 
the most general of all concepts,and cannot be analyzed into, or resolved by any concept more general than 
itself; or the proposition that abstract or generalized being must not be confounded with concrete or indi- 
vidual being,— being in the second intention is not being in the first intention ; or it maybe it is both these 
propositions united into one. 

The error of Hegel lies in attempting to begin the analysis and development of knowl- 
The error of edge and of thought even, with thought itself or mediate knowledge, instead of begin- 
Hegel. ning with knowledge that is immediate, as the order of natural production and of 

psychological acquisition would direct. This error involves the fiction of a possible de- 
velopment of both thought and existence from thought or mediate knowledge only, of an evolution of all 
being, and all forms of being from the mere formal concept of being in general, which by the very definition 
is confessed to be empty or void, i. e., mere nonentity. It involves the still more obvious fiction of a per- 
petual becoming or self-evolution of concept from concept, which is conceived to arise from, or to be equiva- 
lent to, or explained as, the vibration between being and nothing, and nothing and being ; all the meaning 
or reality of which must come from that for which it is dexterously substituted, i. e. from the real operations, 
forces and motions of the actual universe. That there can be no evolution of one notion from another has 
already been shown, § 523. The original intuitions and relations out of which concepts are generalized, dif- 
fer from one another really in their greater or less extent of application to objects, not at all in the relations 
of content or import. The content of one is conceived to be developed from the content of another because, 
when arranged in the gradations of a logical system, being stands highest or most general of all, and cer- 
tain other concepts stand lower, and others lower. Hence it is conceived that the notions arranged below 
those which are higher, are in fact developed from them by an independent movement of self-evolution be- 
longing to the more general concept as such. 

In other words, because the concept being is the sumtnum genus among concepts, it is taken 
to*be the originator of all other concepts. Not only so, it is held, by the same law of self- 
evolution, to be the originator of things or actual beings. The failure of the attempt, and the 
absurdity of the theory on which it rests is manifest when the effort is made to cross over 
from the notion world to the real world ; when the effort is essayed to evolve time and space, 
matter and spirit from concepts only. The effort seems to be successful only because the real 
world with its relations is ever ready at hand behind the concept world which symbolizes it, 
to furnish the signification which is required. Real being, and real relations are very easily 
confounded with the generalized concepts of the same. The two are easily interchanged, and 
it is by a kind of intellectual juggling or sleight-of-hand that any success appears to be 
attained, or any conviction is produced. 

The Histoiy of Philosophy records two theories similar to that of Hegel, both, like his, 
Xenophanes and being founded upon the confusion of abstract or notional entity with the concrete or 
Bpinoza. individual being and it3 relations which it symbolizes. They were the theories of the 

schools of Xenophanes and Spinoza. Both these philosophers reasoned that because tho 



§548. FOEMAL RELATIONS OR CATEGORIES. 533 

eoncept Being was equally applicable to all actual beings, therefore there was but one being actually exist- 
ing, and that was the sum total of all beings, the to £v mm. nav. In the case of the first school, the specula* 
tions were vaguely conceived and crudely defined. In the school of Spinoza, the theory was rendered 
more plausible by his reasoning from the definition of substance furnished by Descartes, § 656, and by his 
clear conception and his emphatic enforcement of the truth that no finite being can be independent ol 
any other for the beginning or continuance of its existence. Hegel seemed to give the finishing stroke to the 
argument, when he contended that not only the existence, but even the conception of a finite being in- 
volves the knowledge of its relations to all other so-called finite beings ; and as actual existence is but the 
rational result of an ideal or mental conception of the evolution of the whole, so each finite being exists only 
is it is evolved from and by the whole. 

Diversity or negation is applied to a being as distinguished from its relations, to one 
relation as distinguished from another relation, and also to one being as distinguished from 
another by means of its relations. While it is true that one being, whether material or 
spiritual, is distinguished from another by intuition or direct inspection ; it is also true that in 
the most important parts and uses of our knowledge, we employ relations only, and especially 
those similar relations by which beings are united under concepts. These last are the essential 
products and media of all thought-knowledge, the conditions of language, and the aim and 
achievement of all science. 

This introduces us to the category of substance and attribute. 

Substance and , ttt 

attribute for- so far as it is merely abstract and formal We have already 

mally conceiv- . . ■ >, -_ ■■' . , ,. 

ed. seen m our analysis of the formation and application ot the 

concept, that it presupposes similar, and therefore common relations; 
and that these are singly and in combination affirmable of things which are 
diverse in the content or essence by which they are denned, and in the 
extent of beings to which they may be applied. 

Whenever a being is thought of, i. e., is distinguished from another being 
by the number and the extent of its relations, then we have the rela- 
tion of substance and attribute in its abstract form. What it is in 
the concrete, and what is the true import of a material and spiritual sub- 
stance, we will inquire after we have considered the several categories, 
both mathematical and real, by which these two descriptions of beings 
are characterized, Chap. VII. We are at present concerned with it only 
in the abstract, and as a formal relation. 

We notice however, that diversity or difference pertains to a concept as truly as to an 
individual, to a logical essence as properly as to an actual being. Whatever be the object 
distinguished, however unlike any other in its being or relations ; or whether the diversity 
belongs to the being or its relations, diversity is properly applied to it. The sense or mean- 
ing in which one object is diverse from another should, however, always be kept in view. 

§ 548. The relation of diversity with its several applicat*^' 
identity? 1C suggests the relation of identity. In affirming that A is 

B, or is diverse from B, we are prepared to affirm that A 
identical with itself. When we apprehend that A is not B, or thab 
A is not B in some one particular, we can hardly fail to apprehend 
that it is the same as itself. That the mind comes to the distinct recog- 
nition of this relation at an early period of its development, and makes fre- 
quent application of it afterwards, is too obvious to need confirmation. 
That the relation is original, and is intuitively discerned, is almost equally 



534 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §548. 

clear. To attempt to explain it by or to resolve it into any other rela- 
tion is to fail. 

Let it be supposed, as many hold, that the first object to which it is applied 
Affirmed of men- is the soul itself, as distinguished from the diverse acts and states of which it 
fcal existence. j s consc i OUS- ^ s the ego distinguishes itself from its changing states, it knows 

that the states are varying, but the ego is the same. In doing so, it must 
compare itself at one time with itself at another, or itself in one state with itself in another. 
If this knowledge is expressed in a proposition, the ego in one state and at one time is the 
subject — the ego at another time and in another state is the predicate coupled with the sameness 
affirmed. The sameness however is predicated of the same real object. The occasion which 
excites to its affirmation is described by the diverse form or time under which it is pre- 
sented to the mind. 

This would by some philosophers he held to be a contradiction in terms, an offence against the law 
of identity itself, because, as it is alleged, the subject and predicate should be terms exactly convertible. 
That this is a false and narrow view of the nature of predication, and of the law of identity, see P. III. c. v. 

Or it may be that Identity is affirmed of a material object, as of a house, or a 

' • , . ship, a tree, or a horse. In such cases the objects are perceived at different 

Or of material. . , , „ , . „ , ™, 

times at least, and are often changed in form, appearance and properties. The 

test or standard of identity may be real and natural, or it may be conventional 
and factitious. But the relation itself is not thereby altered. It is properly expressed by a 
proposition, thus : the object now perceived, or in any form or appearance, is the same as the 
object perceived formerly, or under a different form and aspect. 

Identity may also be applied to a purely mental product. Often it is inter- 
Ofapurelymen- changed with similarity, or the sameness is transferred from the object 
tal product. which is mentally transcribed or pictured, e. g., I have a similar image or con. 

cept now of the same object which I previously imagined or thought, as of the 
same horse, or of horses similar to him in all essential particulars. When the concept is said 
to be the same, in all times and in all ages, it is not necessary that it should be formed by all 
men from the same individuals, but it is meant that the similarity between the individual 
objects is so perfect that one individual may be substituted for another in forming it, and that 
it may be applied to one as freely and as properly as to another, so that for all the purposes 
of thought and reasoning and scientific knowledge it is as though the individual objects were 
the same. 

It is in this last sense that identity is so conspicuous in logic and philosphy, viz., in the re- 
lations of a concept to a concept. It is the identity of a concept with its content in propositions 
of definition, or of a concept with its extent in propositions of division, or of the two as cor- 
related, to which the laws of identity and contradiction in books of logic are applied. The 
extension of these laws to other kinds of identity and difference has wrought indescribable 
confusion and error of thinking. 

The principle or law of identity is, in books of logic, con- 
Theiawofiden- nected with the law of contradiction and the law of ex- 

tity, etc. in logic. „ , . . 

eluded middle, and the three are set forth as the three 
fundamental laws or principles of thought. To secure us against the con- 
fusion and error of which we have spoken, the inquiry is of great 
interest and importance, what relation have these laws of thought to 
the intuitions of identity and diversity ? In answer to this inquiry we 
may say : 



§ 549. FORMAL RELATIONS OR CATEGORIES. 535 

Concern the re- These laws of thought concern the relations of concepts to 
c a ep?8 to c C o°n- concepts ; the intuitions in question concern the relations oi 
eepts. beings and things. But as the relations of concepts to con 

cepts are in the last analysis resolved into and founded upon the 
relations of things, it is manifest that the purely logical principles or 
laws cannot be received as fundamental. They are the axioms of logical 
thinking, but not necessarily the rules for every form and mode of knowl- 
edge. In logic and thought-knowledge they are such practical rules, or 
principles from which those rules are derived, as have been found necessary 
from the dangers to which men are exposed in the use of concepts, 
from the various forms of expression in which both concepts and their 
relations are phrased. 

The law of identity is designed to avoid a twofold danger in 
tity 1 u arTs the use of concepts and terms. We are tempted to suppose, 
fo g iddanger. w< on the one hand, because the diction is altered, that the 
concepts, propositions, and reasonings are changed, or, on the other, we 
hastily conclude that two different phrases are equivalent in meaning. 

To avoid this double exposure we are held by this law to the necessity and 
tTses^and aims tne <j ut y f a i ways using and maintaining our concepts in the same import, 
identity. and of being certain that we mean the same thought when we use the same 

or equivalent language. Of our concepts, it is only those which are complex 
which can be tried and tested by this law ; and these can be tested both in their content and 
extent. In its application to the content it asserts that a concept is, for purposes of logic, the 
same with the sum of its constituting elements : A=(a, b, c, d, and e) ; i. e., all these being taken 
together, the one is convertible with the other. When applied to the relation of extent, 
it asserts that the concept as genus is identical with the total of its contained species or sub- 
ordinate parts. When content and extent are both recognized in any use, then identity in 
both these particulars is to be respected. To make the logical law of identity a mere mean- 
ingless truism, as A is A, or a concept in the same form of diction is identical with itself; 
is inept and absurd. 

It is true, as has been said, that in the last analysis logical relations are founded upon 

real relations, or the relations of concepts upon the relations of things. The principle 

onreal identity 6 °^ ^entity "* ^ S^ C nas ^ a meaning and its use from the assumption that in nature aud 

the constitution of things there are the same powers (i. e., similar), the same causes, 

the same ends, and the same laws, and that these are represented to the mind in the 

same concepts with a fixed content and extent. The identity of concepts or logical identity is derived 

from a special application of that relation of identity which is intuitional and original. 

§ 549. A similar remark may be made of the logical axiom 
SadSnf ° on " or law of contradiction : A is not not-A. This is only a 

generalized application of the intuition of difference to any 
concept whatever, taken in both extent and content. A thing or a con- 
cept is not another, it is not any one of the things or concepts from which 
it differs, nor all of them united. Expressed as a rule it requires " it should 
never be confounded with them, or substituted for them." 



536 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §550. 

The law of excluded middle is but another application of 
Excluded middle, the intuitions of difference and identity when generalized. 

It is, every B is either A or not-A. When A is distin- 
guished from not-A, it is then discerned by reflection that these two di- 
vide the extent of all conceivable existences into two classes. This truth 
is then stated as a principle ; which is ready to be used as a law whenever 
it is required to guard or correct our thinking. 

§ 550. Much evil has resulted from the error of taking these three logical laws as the original and the 
only laws of our knowledge. 

It was entirely natural for philosophers who were practised in the schools of formal 
Misapplica- logic to suppose that every thing which man believes to be true could be demonstrated 
H °-£ °tl^ e law by the methods and after the principles of the syllogism. The tenacity with which this 
persuasion has been adhered to is most remarkable in the history of all systems and 
schools of thought. For a long period after the revival of philosophy it seemed that 
man would never cease to attempt to give a logical demonstration for the very axioms and principles on 
which all demonstration must rest. Logical proof was required for all knowledge, for the belief in a mate- 
rial world, for our confidence in memory, for the distinction between facts of experience and the illusions 
of the imagination ; in short, for every thing known or believed by man. To logical proof the three laws 
of thought were assumed as the axioms. Hence, upon these three laws was made to rest the whole struc- 
ture of human knowledge, and from them, the validity of this knowledge was deduced in all its forms and 
applications. 

This view of these laws is especially manifest in the system of Wolf, who sought formally to demon- 
strate the truth of all that we know. These logical axioms constitute the ultimate principles on which all 
knowledge rests, the decisive criteria by which the credibility of all knowledge is to be tested and tried. 

A new direction was given to opinion in respect to the value and authority of these 
Kant resolved principles by Kant and his followers. Kant demonstrated that as logical axioms they 
these laws into ori \j re spect the consistency of concepts with concepts, and as such cannot be made 
torms oltnoug . ^ e gQ ^ e f oun( iations or criteria of knowledge. He showed that besides analytical judg- 
ments d priori, to which these principles apply in the fullest measure, there is also 
another class of d priori judgments to which they can have no possible relation. But when he made the 
d priori element in all these judgments to be dependent upon mental forms which might be only the 
products of the mind's own activity, he greatly weakened their force and authority. 

Schilling, after Fichte had carried Kant's doctrines into complete idealism, sought to 
„ . . . , provide for our knowledge of the external or material world by asserting that we have 

Hegel's view of a direct intuition, in the first instance, of the indifference of both the subjective and 
identity. objective. In other words, as first known these are undistinguished or identical. 

From this indifference or identity of the two, the mind develops the two opposite 
forms of known being. This was an entirely novel application of the law of identity, a transference of 
it from the logical to the metaphysical arena. Hegel sought to give this doctrine definite shape, by mak- 
ing pure thought or the abstract concept the starting point. From this, by the necessary movement of 
thought, he sought to develop every form and object of human knowledge. He tested all knowledge 
by logic, and, of course, made the logical axioms universal. But in doing so he made a special use of the 
law of negation and the law of identity. The relation of negation is fundamental to his whole system. 
Every concept is what it is by its negative relation to something else : when this negative to something 
else is turned back or applied to define the first it gives it all its positive and definite import : A is not B : 
its not-B-ness makes it to be what it is as A. The relation of identity is similarly applied. A is 
shown to be identical with not-B by precisely the same mode of developing and defining it. Whatever 
is developed from any concept is developed by thought, and in being developed from it, is shown to be 
other than it is ; but by being affirmed of it it is made to be identical with it. In this way every object is 
shown in its thought-relations to be that which it is not— in other words, to be identical with it, becaus* 
it is conceived or defined by it. 



§552. MATHEMATICAL KELATIONS : TIME A1ST) SPACE. 53' 



CHAPTER IV. 

MATHEMATICAL RELATIONS I TIME AND SPACE. 

The class of relations or categories which come next in order are the relations which involve 
the belief in time and space. They are what in our classification we have called the 
mathematical categories. These relations are of the most extensive application. The 
recognition of them is involved in every act of consciousness and perception. They are 
most intimately blended with one another. They suggest the space and time which are 
infinite and absolute — the correlates of limited time and limited space. Both space and 
time are invested with a peculiar mystery which seems to mock every attempt at analysis 
and explanation. On the other hand, the very mystery of their nature and essence 
serves to fascinate and hold the attention to them.; the difficulty which attends the subject- 
matters both invites and challenges investigation. In order to relieve the treatment of 
the subject as much as possible, we will consider them first under their more familiar 
aspects and relations, and afterwards in those which are more recondite and difficult. We 
begin with 

I. Extension as given in sense-Perception ; or the relations of matter 
ichich introduce and require the knowledge of Space. 
... .. . 8 551. All matter is known as extended. The beinsrs or 

All matter is o » 

known as ex- objects of which we become cognizant in the muscular and 
sensorial apparatus are extended. The percepts which arc 
presented to the sensorium, as eye and ear and hand, are perceived as ex- 
tended. Whether this objective and extended world is first perceived as 
a whole and then divided into parts, or as parts which are afterwards 
united into a whole, or as parts and whole together reciprocally rela- 
ted, it or they must be known as extended. 

It is not meant that the extension in one or all of its dimensions is known at 

The extension at first separately from the matter to which it pertains and of which it is affirm- 
first blended . ■ , . . ,. . ,. . ,•-,',.. . , -, 
with matter. ed ; nor that its several directions or dimensions are clearly distinguished ; nor 

again that the mind is at once familiar with magnitude, form, size, and 
distance, apart from perceived objects, or even as belonging to such objects. Nor again is it 
intended that these objects of apprehension are clearly distinguished and familiarly mastered at 
even the first application of the attention. Frequent repetition and much practice is requisite 
to separate the elements which in a single perception are blended, or vaguely perceived. But 
these elements un-distinguished and connected, must be potentially in the object, and ready to be 
discerned as soon as the mind attends. Some are mastered more easily than others. One and 
another stands out from its background of original indistinctness, by a natural prominence as 
compared with the remainder. But the mind nei ther creates its materials either of being or rela- 
tion, from itself or by means of its own energy, nor does it give validity to its concepts 
of either simply by inspecting objects. It simply finds what was there before, and what 
would at once have been observed if the attention had been more sharp and the powers had 
been matured. As soon as it begins to distinguish the objects or parts of the objects of its 
perception, it connects them at once by the relations in question. 

Development of § 552, ^ s soon as aia J matter 1S distinguished as such, from 
tionf oTexten- an< ^ ^ ^ e observing mind, it is known as extended, at least 
sion - in two dimensions. We cannot conceive the eye and the 



538 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §552. 

band to rest upon or to move along any so-called object without the 
apprehension of an extended surface. In the process by which the mate- 
rial world itself is broken up into separate objects, each of these objects 
must be known as terminating in surfaces having different directions with 
reference to the surfaces and positions of other objects. The ball which 
the infant grasps and holds is known to have an extended surface, which 
when followed by the eye or felt by the hand is known to return upon 
itself, giving as the result a formed object or an object having form. The 
cube sooner or later makes objects familiar as extended in three dimen- 
sions or directions, i.e., as high, broad, and deep. This extension is first 
known as outer or as enclosing matter. But when the child peeps into a 
box, or surveys from within, the walls, floor and ceiling of the apartment 
with which it is familiar, it distinguishes surfaces as inner or inclosed 
by matter from those which are outer and inclose matter ; the surfaces 
being still known as belonging to matter and not at all as separable 
attributes, and still less as involving relations to empty space or a con- 
ceivable void. 

But the mind cannot contemplate inclosing and inclosed, or outer and inner 
Void or inclos- extension, without removing the inclosed or inclosing matter, or at least with- 
mg space. out thinking f them as removed. By the child, the box or apartment is 

believed literally to be empty. It is void of all matter that is discern- 
ible by the senses. The outer surface of the ball or cube is in contact with no perceived 
matter. So far as the senses apprehend, a void or empty space is believed to envelop them. 
The contained atmosphere is not perceived to be material. However decisively succeeding 
experiments may prove that it has weight, resistance and even color, the senses do not as yet 
acknowledge any of these properties. In this void there is nothing, i. e., nothing sensible or 
material. And yet this void can be occupied with matter. The box and the apartment can 
both be filled. Cube can be piled upon cube, ball can be laid by the side of ball till the inner 
surfaces are reached in every direction. More than all, within this void, matter can be moved ; 
the ball can be dragged or thrown from one side of the apartment to the other. 

Matter is thus perceived to be capable of beiDg included or surrounded by 
void space^ Is other matter, or by that which is void — i. e., not-matter. It is also known to 
Sace^nd dircc- be ca P ab1e of including other matter or void space. Last and most im- 
tion. portant of all, it is known to be movable in space. Moreover, within the 

void included by matter, different objects may be introduced. When compared with one 
another, or with this inclosing matter, they are said to be placed or situated here and there, 
near and remote, etc. When viewed with respect to a person perceiving them, or an object 
in his place, they are before and behind. If the person or object moves or is moved, he or it 
is said to go or to be carried hither and thither. These give the relations of matter to matter, 
involving place, position, and direction. <* 

All these relations are as yet known of different portions of matter as perceived. The 
outside and inside, the here and there, etc., etc., are only affirmed of material objects as they 
are mutually related to each other, and to the something which at least is not known to be 
matter, or, it may be, is known not to be matter— i. e., not to affect the senses in any of tho 
usual methods. 



§ 554. MATHEMATICAL EELATIONS : TIME AND SPACE. 53S 

Analysis re- § 553 « After the process of perception is complete, and aL 
SSons^ne by tnat ^ involves is united and built up into sense-objects and 
one - their relations, the mind proceeds to analyze these elements, 

and to think of them separately from any one substance, and as common to 
many. The color, the taste, the feeling, and the other sensible qualities 
are conceived and named apart in the manner already explained, and 
soon become familiar to the mind. But after disposing of all the qualities 
apprehended by sense-perception, it encounters as a residuum those which 
are suggested by the inner and outer surfaces of matter as already de- 
scribed. The hand experiments upon these surfaces, and finds them 
rough or smooth, etc. The eye discerns them as variously colored, as light 
or dark, etc. But no one of the senses finds what we call their extension. 
There is no sense-perception to which this is appropriate, and over 
against which this may be set as a quality. Moreover, this very property 
involves the recognition of the void to which it is conceived to have some 
relation. The one cannot be apprehended without the other; the asser- 
tion or recognition of the one is the assertion or recognition of some rela- 
tion to the other. 

What is this void which we call space ; which as yet is not 
SSSs. many perceived by the senses, and yet is somehow known to 

exist ? What is extension or that property in matter which 
requires the recognition of space ? By what powers and processes of the 
mind are each of these known? How are they defined when known? 
These inquiries remain to be answered. We may find some aid in answer- 
ing them, if we consider first the attributes and relations which involve 
the kindred questions in respect to time. 



II. Of Time as apprehended in consciousness / or the relations of 
events which introduce and involve the knowledge of Time. 

§ 554. The phenomena or activities of the soul are to time, 
related to the what material objects are to space. It is to these events and 
activities of the spirit that the relations of time are applied 
with the most eminent propriety. They are also affirmed of the events 
and phenomena of matter, and apparently with the same directness and 
confidence as of those of spirit. Whether this happens by the direct 
or intuitive action of the mind, or by its indirect and mediate opera- 
tions, is reserved for further inquiry. Meanwhile, there can be no question 
that time and its relations pertain with eminent propriety to the phe- 
nomena which the soul apprehends by consciousness. 

Every psychical act or state, whether apprehended more or less dis- 
tinctly as a part of the whole series, and the entire series viewed as an 
unbroken whole, is known as continuing or enduring. 



540 THE HUMAN" INTELLECT. §555 

How soon ; or whether it is by the gradual discipline or instant application 
The acts of the f ^ e powers that psychical phenomena are separated into distinct events, we 
guished at first, need not inquire. The events of our inner life may seem at first to flow iD 

a smooth and even current, or the surface may, from the first, be broken by 
slight ripples, that afterwards rise into clearly-distinguished waves. In either case, the whole 
and the parts are known as continuous or enduring. An act that is literally instantaneous, a 
state beginning and ending in the same instant and occupying no time at all, is absolutely 
inconceivable. What we call instants are not timeless, but the least knowable or appreciable 
portions of time. As every object of sense-perception — whether many as one, or one of many 
— must be known as extended ; so is it with the phenomena of consciousness. Continuance 
belongs to each and to all. This continuance of which we are conscious at first, like the 
extension which we perceive in matter, is not known as an attribute or relation involving 
what we call void or absolute time, but is known as blended with the object of which we are 
conscious ■ constituting with the special matter of the state an undistinguished whole, separa- 
ble by the attentive thought into its distinguishable elements or relations. 

8 555. As soon and as fast as the continuous flow of these 

The continuance . • -i i • A - -t <_. -, -,, 

of two classes of inner phenomena is broken up into distinct and separable 
events, the fact that they are continuous becomes more dis- 
tinctly apprehended. Before it was vaguely known ; now it is made the 
matter of definite cognition. But there are two classes of objects given 
to consciousness ; first, the energy of the ego by which it manifests its 
continued, unbroken, and identical life ; and second, the special activities 
which change every instant, which are clearly distinguished from one 
another, and attract the attention by their special force or quality. The 
mind knows itself the subject of changing activities — to be living and acting 
continuously. That which, in the knowledge of what is here called the 
continued life or energy of the soul, is presented as the object of its 
apprehension, cannot be classed with any thing besides, in the soul's 
cognition. It is enough to say of it, that the soul distinguishes itself 
from its changing and succeeding phenomena, and that it knows the ego — 
the self, the existing being as contrasted with its phenomena — to be 
enduring. But the soul also knows itself as acting and suffering in states 
that change as continuously. Some of these states may seem also to 
coincide with others, as one continuous or repeated act of knowledge may 
run side by side with two or more diverse states of feeling. 

Of the special and changing activities we are accustomed to say, We know 
The present, the present by immediate and intuitive inspection, but we know them as 
past, and future, continuing : the past activity we remember, but we remember it as con- 
tinuing : the future we anticipate and believe in, but we believe it afe con- 
tinuing. But we know all the three as connected with and proceeding from the continually 
existing subject of them, and as by its life connected with one another. Upon this con- 
tinually existing and proceeding life of the soul, all its special activities and states are pro- 
jected, as it were ; as one portion of extended matter is perceived over against the back- 
ground of other matter more extended than itself. These activities thus connected are known 
to exist in a series involving the relations between one another of now, before, and after. 
These relations are applied first of all to the individual activities of the soul, not at all to the 
instants or periods of time which they are conceived to occupy, or are supposed to represent, 



§ 557. MATHEMATICAL RELATIONS I TIME A.Nu SPA(,i£. 541 

for these are not yet supposed to be reached by analysis or generalization. But just as we 
speak of portions of matter, as here, there ; before, behind ; within, and without ; so we apply 
these time-relations to the states of the soul. As we find one portion of matter included by 
or including other portions, so we can cut off one portion of the continuous life of the soul by 
voluntary or involuntary effort, and contemplate those states which are bounded by it, either 
in the way of inclusion or exclusion. 

§ 556. Time may seem to the consciousness to be void, as space 
^entl° n void ° f can appear to be void to sense-perception. The mind can at 

least attend to a certain series only of the events of its inner 
life, and contemplate the rest of this existence as unoccupied by any 
events whatever, and yet as continuing. There can be no time absolutely 
void, but portions of the soul's existence can be considered as such, in the 
sense explained. But that time should be conceived or known as void, is 
not at all essential to the knowledge of events in the relations of time. 
We can know events as past, present, and future, by considering each of 
them as continuous phenomena of the continued life of the soul. 

We have to do thus far only with time-relations in the concrete, and as given 
Consciousness in consciousness. By consciousness, it will be obvious, we do not intend 
carefully defined. mere iy the power or the act by which the soul knows its own states as present 

and immediate. It includes some use of the representative power in respect 
to past and future events, as well as the belief that what is represented, was or will be actual. 
Consciousness must be enlarged to this extent of meaning, before it can connect objects in the 
relations of time. But in consciousness as thus defined, we clearly distinguish between what 
is concrete in the matter of the soul's experience — both its separate acts or stages of knowl- 
edge, feeling, and will, as well as the energy of the soul's continued life — from the time-rela- 
tions which these phenomena hold to one another. These last are a residuum which present 
material for further consideration and analysis. 

III. Of the mutual relations of Extended and Enduring objects. 

The mind dis- § 55 ^ Material objects*, as we have seen, are apprehended 
and 3 !nd e uri£g by sense-perception as extended. Spiritual acts and states 
objects together. are k nown j n consciousness as enduring. But sense-percep- 
tion and consciousness occur, in fact, as two elements of the same psychical 
energy or state. As a consequence, the relations of extension and dura- 
tion are intimate and interchangeable, and the conceptions and language 
originally derived from and appropriate to the one, are appropriated to the 
other. 

We do not insist that the soul can, in the same mental state, act with equal 
But not with energy in each of these forms of activity. On the contrary, its force is most 
equal attention. usua Uy expended upon the one or the other. But however energetic and 

absorbing be the energy of the soul in its sense-perception of a material 
object, it cannot be wholly unaware that it also exercises spiritual activity in perceiving. However 
exclusively introverted is its gaze upon the experiences of the inner self, it cannot be wholly 
unaware of material and extended objects. By this obvious fact of actual experience, we 
explain the intimate conjunction of duration and extension, and understand how it is not only 
possible, but even necessary, to connect the two in imagination, language, and thought. 



542 THE HtTMAN INTELLECT. §559 

Duration trans- § 558, ^ e ^ rst °^ tnese applications which we notice, is 
riai ed acts m and tne transference of the relations of time from the phe- 
pnenomena. nomena of spirit, to the activities and phenomena of matter. 

Duration or continuance is, as we have seen, originally discerned of the activities and 
phenomena of the spirit. To these the relations of time are directly and properly applied. 
The reason is, that when these relations are affirmed of more than one object, whether of 
matter or spirit, the intervention of the memory is required. We cannot say of the trotting 
of a horse, of the flight of a bullet, or of any other motion, that it continued so many seconds 
or minutes, without supposing the memory of the observer, who is all the while looking on, to 
translate the objects really taking place into the objects as perceived by himself, i.e., into so many 
acts of his own, each enduring so much time. Every object of memory is remembered as 
having been observed by the person, and is recalled by him as having been observed, and 
hence as necessarily bearing the relations of time. Material acts or phenomena must be 
connected as constituting an intellectual whole, that they may be recalled. This is further 
evident from the circumstance that, whatever may take place in the series of objective or 
material acts, that which is unobserved is totally omitted in the estimates of time. It is to the 
mind as enduring as though it had not been a^t all. It is not true that observation or memory, 
one or both, makes the material phenomena to endure or to require time in which to endure ; 
but it is true that the knowledge of them as enduring requires that they be thought of by 
some person as occurring in his actual or possible experience. We raise no questions and 
make no assertions respecting objective time, or time considered apart from the experience 
of some spirit. We have to do, at present, with duration, i. <?., as experienced, or with objects as 
enduring. We assert that this relation can neither be applied, nor thought of as applied to 
any material acts or events, except through the medium of the duration of some person who 
applies to them his own spiritual experiences as coinciding with these in fact or imagination. 
Every such application, when fully translated or explicated, is made as follows : " While I was 
thinking or observing, the horse trotted or the bullet sped so or so far." 

The measures § 559 - But though duration, as a spiritual experience, is the 
taken from *££ ultimate standard or measure ; the duration of materia: 
tended bein & . events, — the actual measures of the duration of both spiritual 
and material phenomena, — are taken from the objective or material world. 
The reason is obvious. Any standard furnished from individual and 
spiritual experience must be so indeterminate to one's self as to be use- 
less, and, moreover, must be wholly inaccessible to every one besides. 
Though, in our ultimate analysis, we say to ourselves, " While I was 
thinking and feeling so and so, the pendulum vibrated, the horse ran, the 
bullet sped so or so far," yet it is practically impossible for us to fix and 
render familiar any individual or often repeated series of thoughts and feel- 
ings, so as to use it as a standard even for ourselves. Even if we could 
do this for ourselves, we could not bring it within the reach and use of 
others. Each individual might perhaps be supposed to employ his own 
separate measure or standard of duration, but no two persons could have 
one that was common. But two individuals, and even two myriads of 
individuals, can observe the same vibrating pendulum, the same advancing 
or waning shadow on the dial, the same rising and setting sun, and can 
use these as standards to measure and mark all other phenomena, both 
internal and external. 



§ 560. MATHEMATICAL EELATIOXS I TIME AND SPACE. 543 

It is by a natural necessity, therefore, that all the relations of time should be measured 
by standards and dimensions taken from extension and space. Some material thing, moving 
a prescribed distance, is taken as the unit or standard. It may be a heavenly body returning 
upon its path at supposed regular intervals ; it may be the beating of the hand or the foot, 
each stroke being assumed to be equally long ; it may be some artificial motion, as of a pendu- 
ium or balance-wheel, under the operation of gravitation or steady tension. But whatever the 
standard may be, it must be asstimed, for it cannot be in any way demonstrated that its 
motions are uniform in their rate of time. It cannot be demonstrated, and it certainly is not 
intuitively discerned, that any of these motions which are considered the most accurate 
standards of time are uniform with each other. This assumption rests upon another, that of 
rational order or fitness in the constitution and phenomena of the universe ; or, in other 
words, upon the principle of final cause. The certainty which is claimed for the mathematico- 
physical sciences in the ultimate and most unquestioned of their relations, — the sciences which 
are styled preeminently the sciences of observation and of fact — rests in the final resort upon 
this a priori relation of being and law of thought. 

Xot only are the standards of duration taken from material 

The language of _ „ _ . . 

duration taken aud extended objects, but the language ot duration is taken 
from the same source, and for a similar reason. In fact, and 
from necessity, all the relations of time are expressed in terms originally 
appropriate to material objects, and the relations of extension which they 
involve. Long, short, before, after, etc., were first applied to material 
objects, and from them transferred to the relations of time. As will be 
seen hereafter, this is but a single example of the necessity by which the 
language and terms of every kind that are applied to spirit and its rela- 
tions must be derived from space-objects and space-relations. 

IV. Of the relations of Quantity as applicable to space and time objects. 
8 560. Material objects are not only known to be extended, 

Extended objects f 5 J J . . ' 

measure one but, as extended, they are soon perceived as measuring one 
another. This at once introduces and explains the relation 
of quantity. The relation implies the act of measuring, and the discovery 
of an answer by some assumed standard. Quantity supposes the inquiry, 
How much, How many, or, How great ? It has for its answer, So much, 
So many, So large — referring at once to some object which, in its relation 
of extension, duration, or number, is before or may be before the mind. 
The extended material universe, as at first vaguely and confusedly per- 
ceived, is unbroken, having only superficial extension. By the process of 
sense-perception it is soon broken into separate objects, each of which is 
extended. When these objects, thus separated, are again compared with 
the unbroken whole from which they are divided, they are known as 
holding to each other the relation of parts and a whole. The same is true 
when any portion of this extended whole is detached and subdivided into 
smaller divisions. 

In a similar way, one or more of the separate acts or states 
cMcai^phen^m" of the soul which follow one another in a series as experienced 

ena do the same. . . , , , n -,..,. -. 

in consciousness, may be contemplated as dividing, and yet 



544 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 561. 

making up this whole, the whole of time being constituted by the con- 
tinued activity of the soul in its different acts. In this way we apply the 
relation of whole and parts to both extended and enduring objects, the 
whole being, in the one case, constituted of objects adjacent in extension, 
and, in the other, of objects continuous in duration, which objects, thus 
viewed, become its parts. 

Psychologically viewed, the relation of whole and parts is the first of 
the relations of quantity which the mind apprehends by sense and con- 
sciousness, and, as we have seen, the wholes and parts which result from 
the analyzing and combining acts of sense, representation and thought, be- 
long among the formal relations. 

Again : The adjacent surfaces of extended objects are observed to coincide in one of 
their terminating limits, either when two objects are placed closely upon one another by the 
hand, or when two are held at different distances, so as precisely to cover one another to the 
eye. If, in either case, all the extremities coincide, one of these objects measures the 
other, and is equal to it. If one extends beyond the other, it is greater ; if it falls short of it, 
it is less. The same relations would be affirmed of two or more spiritual states as enduring, 
if they should be actually experienced together in consciousness, supposing this were possi- 
ble, or if they were simply conceived so to occur. "We speak of periods of time, when thus 
compared, usually as longer or shorter than others, or as equally long or short with another, in 
terms taken from the dimensions of space. We also speak of more, or less, or equal time, in 
those designations of quantity which are common to both space and time objects, and are 
acknowledged to be equally appropriate to either. 

It will be noticed that, in order to measure one extended surface by another, the two 
must be in fact, or appear to the eye to be in one plane. You cannot measure a plane by a 
spherical surface, nor a circular by a straight line. You can measure only the planes which 
each present to the eye. Direction in some sense is also implied. You must move the meas- 
ured object evenly in a plane, or move it towards some defining limit, which must be kept 
steadily in view. Inasmuch, however, as the eye leads in the sense-perceptions, and to the eye 
at first all objects appear in one plane, direction need not at first be a matter prominently con- 
sidered. 

8 561. These examples explain how one extended object or 

Measurement . . . x . . 

requires num- enduring act oi spirit may measure another by the relations 
of equality or greater and less. Measure, in another mean- 
ing, supposes the application of number. 

This relation may be developed so far as to be applied to 

The relation of _ . *L —. v f „ .- , . . . -. 

number, how de- these uses, as follows: JJirst oi all, some object must be 
selected which shall serve as the unit, which at the same 
time can be conveniently repeated as an equal part of a whole of extended 
objects, or of a series of enduring mental states. Let two objects of 
equal extent of surface be placed one upon the other, and be seen to be 
equal. Let the one be then placed adjoining the other, and made to coincide 
with it in the same plane ; or, which is the same in effect, let a single 
object be moved before any background, and successively cover and reveal 
portions equal to itself, and we have at once complete occasion for the use 
of number in measurement. Two equals side by side in a plane, can 



§563. MATHEMATICAL RELATIONS I TIME AND SPACE. 545 

be counted if, the mind contemplates the one after the other in the ordei 
of time. That with which it begins is the first, or 1, of the series. The 
next, when connected with the one taken first in time, is second, or 2„ 
When another is thus connected, we have the third, or 3, and so on. Thus 
we count, or number. But to count, or number, is only possible as we 
connect objects by a consecutive series of mental acts — that is, by a series 
of mental acts following each other in time. 

The object which thus divides into equal parts an extended whole or a con- 
Relations of ti nue( l series, whether the divisions are permanent, or momentary, is called 
number. its measure. When these parts are connected as following one another, by 

the sustained attention of the mind, the parts are numbered as well as 

measured. , 

§ 562. The relation of number is complex, and requires that 
nunibSdefinedf objects should be connected in series as wholes and parts, 

and contemplated in the relations, which are derived from the 
time-relations of the mind that views them. It is clear that we cannot 
number without cognizing objects as connected as wholes and parts, by the 
mind's contemplation of them in a series of acts distinguished and united 
as enduring in its own subjective experience. In other words, number 
depends upon those relations of time which we assume and know to 
be inseparable from the soul's own activity. 

When a series of mental states is itself measured and numbered, it 
must be remembered that in reflective consciousness the series itself is 
made objective to the mind. It is treated or viewed as though it were a 
series or whole of material objects. In such a case it is itself contem- 
plated by a new series of acts which, as necessarily consequent in the 
mind's subjective experience, both require and furnish the relations of 
number which are forthwith applied to the object-series before it. It 
makes no difference what this object is, whether it is an object-object or a 
subject-object. It is contemplated by a series of acts wholly subjective, 
involving as spiritual acts the attribute of duration to themselves, and as 
successive, the relation of number in the objects which they unite and 
measure as wholes and parts. 

Thus far we have to do with the relations of quantity as known in the concrete, that is, as 
applied to actually existing objects. We have seen how one portion of matter or one act or 
state of mind can be applied to measure another or others, in the way of magnitude and 
number. We have also seen that we cannot measure extended objects or connect spiritual 
states without numbering them. How these can be conceived as pure quantity or quantity in 
die abstract, will be considered hereafter. (Cf. § 569). 

V. Of extended and enduring objects as Imaged or represented : or 
space and time objects as enlarged and measured by the Imagination. 

§ 563. Only a small portion of the material universe is 
sense - per- apprehended through the senses by any single act of the 
mind. The hand can cognize an object of only equal extent 
35 



546 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §564. 

with itself. The eye has a far wider, but still a very limited range. All 
beyond either, is apprehended and measured by the representative power. 
Even within the limits to which the eye reaches, and upon those very 
objects which the eye seems to command, the representative power is 
largely employed in estimating extent in the dimensions of distance and 
size. 

That which is before the eye is the utmost which the eye can in any sense be said to 
perceive, and very much of this extent is estimated by the mind's eye. If we change the 
point of view with the swiftness of the flying bird, as fast as we see a new extent of objects, 
we lose sight of those present an instant before. The sailor who is driven before the wind, 
finds himself, every morning, apparently in the same place as the evening previous — in the 
centre of a circular lake bounded by the line made by the sky and the sea. 

Within these limits, whether the observer is fixed or in motion, this ex 
Within these tended whole can be divided according to the convenience or the caprice of 
aswe please" tne percipient. Nature has given fixed or moving boundary lines, by the 

various properties of the undivided and separable, of the stationary and 
moving objects with which she fills every visible scene. The objects within the reach of the 
hand and the direct inspection of the eye, we measure by selecting some one as a unit, in the 
manner explained. Those beyond these bounds, we measure in a similar way, with this differ- 
ence only, that the material measured, and the standard by which it is measured, are furnished 
by the imagination only, working upon the suggestions or occasions which perceived objects 
furnish. We seem to perceive the real height of the lofty tree that shoots up from the hori- 
zon against the sky, while it is but a mote to the eye ; we think we perceive the width of the 
stream that threads the distant meadow with a silvery line, but these estimates are possible 
only by the aid of the picture-making power, that brings them by the side of the tree under 
which we stand, or upon the margin of the stream where we sit. We have already learned, 
in considering the acquired perceptions, that it is only by the aid of the imagination that we 
supply the defects of the senses, and interpret their indications. 

8 564. Beyond the limits of actual perception we are de- 

Beyond these we ° J .... , t> 

usetheimagina- pendent upon the imagination alone for our estimates of 
distance and size. These estimates, within and beyond the 
reach of experience, vary with the actual knowledge which we have gained 
of such objects by inspection and recall by the memory, and with the 
practice which we have gained by the frequent application of definite 
standards by the representative power. The adult surpasses the child 
immeasurably in this power. So does the man of various observation aud 
of disciplined powers excel the man of limited knowledge and of untrained 
habits ; so most strikingly does the modern, instructed and taught as he 
is, present a very striking contrast to the wisest of the ancients. 

The child, uninformed and immature, has very scanty materials with which 

Ilc-w the child ^o q\\ up or extend the background of the scene that is within reach of its 
imagines distant ,.«.'. . , . „ 

objects. perceptions, and but little mterest to excite to their use. Hence its esti- 

mates of the place, distance, and size of the objects that are remote from its 
reach, uninteresting to its feelings, or unfamiliar to its handling, are singularly confused, 
capricious, and uncertain. 

A child between three and four years old, of no inferior intelligence, and of good oppor- 



§565. MATHEMATICAL RELATIONS: TIME AND SPACE. 547 

hmities for instruction and thought, was once asked how far distant the sun sets, and answered 
promptly, In the next field. The answer expressed the first impressions of every child, and 
slearly illustrates the little exercise to which the childish imagination is disciplined in the wa} 
of filling the interval that lies between its home and the visible horizon. This child had 
walked and driven for miles in every direction from its home, and would have remembered, 
and declared if prompted by a leading question, that all the roadways along which it had gone 
were bordered by adjacent houses, fields, and gardens, like those in sight ; but it had never 
learned familiarly to think of these as filling up the space, or to estimate their relative dimen- 
sions. Beyond the bounds that shut in the nearest and the most familiar objects, its imagi- 
nation had rarely acted, and all the wide universe without was to its fancy and its judgment 
almost a blank. In the same way we account for the incapacity of a child to conceive intelli- 
gently the length of a road or the extent of a journey. 

Very like the immature child is the uncultivated man, especially if such an 
The uncultiva- one ° 1S fi xe d> °y hi s habits of life, to a single narrow valley or a limited range 
ted man. f travel. Every thing beyond is confused and unmeasured. The horizon of 

his actual perceptions, or the slightly enlarged horizon of his expeditions for 
hunting and war, includes all that he knows or soberly imagines. He may at times fill the 
blank vacuity beyond with objects that are monstrous, horrid, and grotesque — objects that are 
terrific to his unintelligent fears, or are bewildering to his insane expectations ; but he fixes 
few or none which hold definite or rational relations to others as measures or bounds. The 
spatial world formed by both child and savage, is well represented by the rude maps of the 
early geographers, in which the countries actually traversed are drawn with a certain degree 
of definiteness, though the near is out of all proportion to the remote ; while all beyond is a 
blank bounded by an uncertain line, along which uncouth monsters are placed, or the unknown 
and measureless water or desert shuts in the picture. 

If the child or the savage attempt to picture and measure the regions of the sky, or to 
estimate the size and distance of the heavenly bodies, the processes are still more uncertain 
and the results more indefinite and vague. Both soon tire of repeating any familiar object 
selected as a measure. They neither think nor care how large are the sun and the stars, or how 
many are the steps, the miles, or leagues, which would be required to reach them. Thus and 
thus only can we explain the very inadequate conceptions on these subjects which the early 
astronomers accepted and taught. 

„ 8 565. Our conceptions and measures of time-obi ects, like 

jVT G9.surps of 

time-objects im- those of sjmce-objects, are largely the work of the representa- 
tive faculty. The passing and present acts and states of our 
own spirits, and the coincident operations and phenomena of the material 
world are the only time-objects of which we have direct cognizance. 
Past objects are gone. Future objects do not yet exist. Present objects 
alone directly confront the mind. The past must be recalled by memory, 
the future must be anticipated in the imagination, so as with the present 
to complete the series of time-objects. 

The standards by which we measure these objects, whether present, 
past, or future, are of two descriptions. They are taken from the material 
world, in the motions of certain objects which are assumed to be uniform, 
or from the world of spirit in some longer or shorter period of our own 
existence, which, with the feelings attending it, is made the standard. 
We may distinguish these standards of space and time as definite and in* 
definite. 



548 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 566. 

To measure past events, we must be able to recall them in their order, so 
t?ef e S n diSent as to have before us tne mafc erial which we are to estimate. But men differ 
men. greatly in the capacity to revive past objects in their fulness and order. If 

the capacity to recall with success be possessed, time and effort must be added 
that any past series may be restored, so as to be estimated or measured. Some self-discipline 
and practice are required that a measure may be prepared from our inner experience which 
shall be ready for use, and also that the same standard shall be applied on the occasions required. 

Differences in both these particulars in different persons, and in the same 
Differences in persons at different times, account for the singular differences which are 
time. notorious in our estimates of time. No fact is more generally accepted, than 

that two series of events may occupy the same length of time as measured 
by the clock, and may seem to vary very greatly from one another as measured by the mind. 
If we are waiting impatiently for the arrival of a friend or of a railway train — if we are 
listening to a tiresome conversation or a tedious lecture, the time seems very long. On the 
other hand, if the conversation is interesting, or the pastime is absorbing, the time flies swiftly 
along. The child cannot believe that the hour has come which calls him from his play, to 
school or to bed. A trip by a steamer seems much longer than a trip by railway, when the 
time is the same. Each are sensibly shortened if the tedium is beguiled by spirited conver- 
sation. A week spen^t in the daily routine of regular employment, goes quickly by ; while a 
week of constant travelling, filled up by a rapid succession of exciting objects, often seems 
surprisingly long. The years of childhood glide slowly away. Every day and every month 
stretches to an interminable length, because our present enjoyment brings no disappointment, 
and because it stands between us and some future enjoyment which the mind is impatient to 
grasp. The years of our busy middle life slip hastily by, though we would fain delay their 
flight, because we are too busy to measure the passing years. 

The estimates which we make in dreams of both space and time, are singu- 
Estimatesof larly capricious. They strikingly illustrate and enforce the truth, that these 
in dreams. ime estimates depend on the subjective judgment of the soul, and these judgments 

are capable of extraordinary variations, from merely accidental causes. A 
dream whicn takes but a few minutes, suffices for a long journey or a tedious voyage, for a 
protracted entertainment or a prolonged and painful contest. We seem to ourselves to pass 
through weary hours of prolonged suspense, to experience manifold struggles and disappoint- 
ments, to climb lofty eminences by a series of vain efforts, to apply ourselves again and again 
to fruitless tasks, and the time which we spend and the spaces which we traverse are stretched 
almost to infinitude. 

Measurements § 566. The constructions and measurements of space and time 
nJmbw^and which we have thus far considered, are not to be confounded 
magnitude. ^-^ those which involve the relations of number and mag- 

nitude. They are made for practical use and convenience, and rest 
upon those comparisons of one series of objects with another which give 
general impressions of their time or space relations, or the application 
of some familiar object or series as a standard by which to measure one 
that is freshly presented. They do not involve any great precision or 
an exact record. In the most of these cases, the relations of time and space 
are not the sole, perhaps not the prominent matter of interest. The mind 
judges the time spent in one occupation was about as long as the time 
spent in another. It took me about as long, or twice or half as long, as to 
do this or that daily duty. The distance from A to B is equal to the 



§566 MATHEMATICAL RELATIONS: TIME AND SPACE. 549 

distance from C to D, or it may be greater or less. But when we say, 
London is 3 to 4,000 miles from New York, or the moon is 238,650 miles 
distant from the earth ; or Washington and Napoleon were born and died 
so many years after the birth of our Lord, we apply measurements of a 
different character. These are what we have styled the definite standards 
of both space and time. 

It is interesting to notice, in this connection, the history of the progress made by th 
numan race in the standards of both time and space. The savage measures time by the bud- 
ding of the oak, or the return and departure of birds or other game. By and by he marks 
the coming and going of the moon. Then rude devices like the clepsydra or the sand-dial are 
introduced. Last of all, the scientific observer employs the chronometer and the astronomical 
clock. 

So, in standards of length, the mind has passed from the use of parts of the body, to 
measurements by the aid of the pendulum, or a portion of a circle of the earth, in order to 
find an accurate and trustworthy standard. 

The first question that presents itself in respect to these standards is, What are the 
conceptions of a minute, an hour, a day, a year, a yard, a rod, or a mile, which, in such cases, we 
speak of so freely and apply so readily ? Are they images or concepts ? Are they individual 
or general, or something between the two ? We answer, They are both images and concepts, 
or imaged concepts, and are the products of both imagination and of thought. So far as 
they are products of the imagination or the representative power, they fall within the present 
section. 

Standards of both space and time are images or representations of material 
Whence stand- objects. No images can be formed of space or time as such, or of what are 
derived. sometimes called pure or empty space and time, but only of those objects or 

events which hold a relation to either or to both. When these are pictured 
or imaged, they carry with them those relations which the originals necessarily involve, and 
from which they cannot be severed in reality or in thought (§ 424). 

Objects and events can be represented or pictured with the greatest possible 
How thev are ^ umess or vagueness. If not really present, they can never equal those which 
pictured. are subjects of actual experience. They can rise very nearly to that freshness 

and fulness which present perception and immediate consciousness can alone 
apprehend, or they can fade and sink away to that dimness which simply suggests that certain 
portions of space and time are covered or occupied by them. In forming these representations 
of pure and empty space and time, the mind has only to fix its limits nearer or more remotely, 
more widely or closely, and leave the interval between wholly unoccupied by either objects or 
events. As in forming images of objects actually perceived or experienced, it can make them 
full or scanty, vivid or faint, so it can leave unpictured every thing except the bounding limits 
themselves, and these it can picture with only the distinctness required to suggest the space 
and time between. But even in all these cases some definite and individual object is imaged. 
But with the object itself, as such, the mind is little concerned. It only employs and cares 
for it as it suggests the space and time to which it is related. Thus, for a standard of space, 
the words yard, or rod, or mile, may call up some visible or tangible object most indefinitely 
pictured, or with the words, a minute, an hour, a day, or year, some series of events that have 
required a remembered period, or a part of such a period. Both these are pictured, not for 
their own sake, but for the sake of the time or space which they suggest. But these standards 
are concepts as well as images, and they cannot be completely understood, even as images, till 
they are considered also as concepts. This leads us to the next topic. 



55 C THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 568. 

VI. Of space and time objects as Generalized ; or the Concepts of the 
relations of objects to time and space. 

How the reia- § 56 ^« Different individual objects and events hold similai 
andtimfoSs re l at i° ns to ^ otn space and time, whether they are presented 
are generalized. ^0 sense and consciousness, or are represented to the imagina- 
tion. Space-objects may be alike in relative position, distance, form, and 
size, etc., Time objects maybe alike in coexistence, in antecedence or sub- 
sequence, in their relative place in the order of occurrence, and in the inter- 
vals by which they are separated from one another or from any other 
event. The mutual relations which exist between time and space objects 
may also be common to any number of both classes. These relations are as 
readily generalized as are the attributes of material or spiritual things. It 
is as easy to generalize the forms and sizes of objects as their color or their 
taste, the beforeness and aftemess of a spiritual act, as its quality as an act 
of knowledge or of feeling. 

There is this difference : these relations are in their nature incapable of being directly 
picturable to the imagination, as are the properties of matter and spirit. In order to represent 
them at all, we must first picture the objects which hold them, and so recall or suggest the 
relations themselves. As concepts these generalized products are as easily formed and com- 
prehended as any other concepts. They are peculiar only in the relations which they bear to 
the individual things and events of which they are affirmed, and to the representations of those 
things and events by which the concepts are imaged. 

8 568. The words by which these relations are named and 

These relations " _ . , ,, ._ _ 

individual and known, are as truly generic as the terms usually called 
common. It is true, these terms are usually called terms of 
relation, but this makes no difference with their character. All of them, it 
is true, have a more or less direct relation to an individual place and time, 
and seem therefore to be less general than the other appellatives ; but they 
are all capable of being equally applicable to many individual objects, and 
hence are as truly generic as they. We cannot say here, there, now, be- 
fore and after, without implying that an individual observer occupying an 
individual place at an individual portion of time apprehends the object in 
this very relation, but it is possible that many objects at different times 
may be here or there, and now and then, before and after, i. e., at the same 
time in different places. Hence the hereness and thereness,t\\e nowness, the 
beforeness and the aftemess may all be common to many individuals, and 
like sensible or spiritual qualities may be affirmed or predicated of all. 
Hence these objects may be grouped under, or classified by means of these 
general relations. Hence the terms which denote them, take their place 
side by side with the other common terms with which we are more familiar. 
Very many adjectives of time, as prior, later, present, p>ast, and future, and 
of space, as long, short, high, deep, and broad, and of form, as circular, 
triangular, square, spherical, and conical, and of motion, as swift, slow, etc., 






§569. MATHEMATICAL EELATIONS I TIME AND SPACE. 551 

will occur to any thoughtful mind as belonging to these classes of 
words. 

All these classes of terms, like all other notion words, require some image to explain and 
illustrate them to the mind. But they are peculiar in this, that any object whatever will serve 
to image some of these terms, and a very large class of objects will serve to illustrate others. 
Every object in nature and in spirit has some relation to time and space, and hence it is indif- 
ferent what one is cited to exemplify these universal relations. Other time and space relations, 
though not universal, are much more extensive than most of the usually recognized appella- 
tives. It is much easier to recall an example of an event that is early or late, or, an object 
that is spherical or oval, than of the majority of the common terms that are most frequently 
used. 

VIL Of Mathematical Quantity ; the process by which its concepts are 
evolved, and their relation to time and space. 

Two classes f § 569 - These concepts naturally divide themselves into two 
mathematical classes, the concepts of magnitude and the concepts of num- 

concepts. ' . 

ber, or the concepts which are related severally to space, and 
time. We begin with those which imply the existence of space, as being 
the most easily explained and understood ; i. e., with geometrical concepts 
or concepts of pure magnitude. 

Of these the most familiar are the point, the line, the surface. 

How geometri- . £ \ /.,,,.* 

oai concepts are the triangle, the square, the rectangle, tne rhomboid, the solid) 
the cube, the sphere, etc. 

These terms stand for both images and concepts, in other words for 
the products of the imagination and of thought. As images they are 
individual, as concepts they are general. The representative imagination 
recalls sensible objects and phenomena with their relations to both space 
and time. It is impossible to view the one and omit the other. 

The creative imagination idealizes not only the sensible and spiritual properties of these 
objects and phenomena but it idealizes their space and time relations, § 353. It transforms the 
perceptible edge with its actual breadth and ragged outline into the ideal line which has neither 
breadth nor undulation. It smooths the undulating surface into an evenly lying geometrical 
superficies. In the same way it refines the blunted corner of a die or cubical block into the 
mathematical point which is imagined as having place but no extent in any direction. These 
relations cannot themselves be thus imaged without the aid of some concrete object, but the 
object itself can be imaged with these relations thus idealized and refined. When the attention 
is withdrawn from the object related and occupied with the relation in question thus 
idealized, the relation itself is said to be imaged. This act of fixing the attention is an act 
of analysis, preliminary to the act of generalization. But when the relation is generalized, 
we have a concept in place of an image, holding the same relation to the concrete and indi- 
vidual which belongs to any other concept. That is, these concepts need to be imaged and 
illustrated by concrete objects as truly as do others. Their import can be understood and 
their validity established only by this process. As has already been explained, § 453, their 
superior clearness and intelligibility as the materials for definition and deduction can be 
accounted for by the readiness with which the mind can recur to their import by citing somt 
individual example, and can be sure that it has considered every one of its possible relations. 



552 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. g 571, 

§ 570. All the geometrical conceptions are dependent upon 
as G um t? nJ hat tne assumption of the space-relation of objects. Without 

these space-relations they have no meaning. They presup- 
pose the belief in these space-relations, as actually belonging to every 
material existence. They rest upon the belief in that absolute and infinite 
space which limited space presupposes and involves. Space with the space- 
relations of objects, is the ever -assumed background upon which all 
geometrical constructions are projected, and over against which all its 
processes are interpreted. Its presence is not expressed in language, but 
it is constantly recognized by the mind as essential to the intelligibleness 
and the application of the definition, and proof. A line, a point, etc., are 
?20-things, they are incomplete and impossible conceptions except as space 
is supposed and supplied by the mind as that in and by means of which 
they can be constructed and conceived. These truths are too obvious to 
need further proof or illustration. 

The vouchers for the reality and the validity of these conceptions are to be 
Postulates of found in the mind's own power to construct them. The mind knows that it 
oiiantUv triCal can cons * ruc t these concepts, and knows what they are when constructed. 

Geometry postulates of every student that he should make them for himself. 
The language of these is, "draw a line" "conceive or construct a plane" "think of a 
point." It lays the foundations for its reasonings in these postulates. It defines the mean- 
ing of these constructions by analyzing their relations to one another and to the space 
to which they all have a common relation. It illustrates, or as we usually say, demon- 
strates the relations unknown before by referring to new constructions made concrete in some 
material substance, for example, by a cube or sphere, a cone, a dot, a chalk line, a rough surface 
on blackboard, or paper included by marks — which are no mathematical lines but serve 
to represent them and hold the attention to what they represent. In the so-called demonstra- 
tion of Geometry one figure is supposed to be drawn in connection with another. Additional 
figures are placed by the side of those already constructed, or those already drawn are divided 
so as to enable the mind to bring into comparison figures that had been inaccessible and 
incommensurable. But as it is with the original and simpler definitions or postulates so is it 
with these complex constructions. Space is supposed as the necessary attendant of each and 
of all, making it possible to construct them and to evolve the new relations which the mind 
discerns by skilfully preparing and combining the required figures. As has already been 
shown, § 457, the nerve and force of the geometrical demonstration rests more upon these suces- 
sive intuitions than upon that element in it which is properly deductive. 

8 571. The concepts of number are conditioned upon certain 

Conditions of the ° x . * . 

concepts of num- relations of objects and phenomena to time. Objects to be 
capable of number must be contemplated in a continued 
series. This only is possible by the known and recognized relation of 
such objects to the mind's continued or sustained action as it contemplates 
them in succession. They must also be viewed reciprocally as wholes and 
parts. This is possible only as the mind gathers objects viewed as 
arranged in a series into a group which it breaks up into parts, reuniting 
these parts with each other at its will, making its units larger or smaller 
according to its caprice. To both these relations time is the necessary 



§572. MATHEMATICAL RELATIONS: TIME AND SPACE. 553 

condition, to the continued subjective act of the mind in connecting 
objects into a series, and to the recalling of them as thus connected, so that 
they may be arranged and grouped as wholes and parts by the successive 
additions of units. 

It has been already shown, what it is to number or count, and that 
to the act of counting, time must be assumed as both the subjective and 
objective condition. The relations by which objects are viewed or 
connected in the act of counting when abstracted, generalized, imaged 
and symbolized, are the relations of number. 

These relations can be applied to any objects whatever — to material objects, to 
number can be spiritual objects, to acts or states of the mind itself, to the very acts of the 
anv objects ^ mind in numbering, in short, to any thing which can become an object of direct 

or reflex cognition. Any series of objects can be used as the symbols or im- 
ages of number. We may use objects most unlike one another, contemplating them only in their 
numerical relations, or we may select those very nearly alike, and presenting so few points or 
features of interest as not readily to distract the mind from the single relations conditioned by 
time. Thus a row of marbles, of kernels of grain, or a series of marks is usually selected. Such ob- 
jects can be readily interchanged with one another, and therefore suggest little more than their 
numerical relations. Tor convenience of recording and recalling the results of the processes 
of counting, arbitrary symbols have been selected. Thus, for two objects made one by a single 
addition, we employ the symbol of two marks, as in the Eoman system, II, later, the Arabic 
character 2 ; then III, 3 ; then, instead of five marks we use V Horn, and 5 Ar.; instead of four 
and six, V diminished by 1 going before, and increased by 1 following, or the Arabic characters, 
5 and 6, etc., etc. 

§ 572. The principal concepts of number are the unit, the 

The principal y y . m _ 7 . 7 y 7 . . . 

concepts of sum, the difference, the multiple, the divisor and the ratio. 
For our purposes these need not be separately and carefully 
defined. It is sufficient for us to notice that they stand for the relations 
of objects as viewed in a continued series, i. e., contemplated as parts that 
can be augmented by a constant addition, or repeated one by one or 
group by group ; or, again, as a whole that can be diminished by a constant 
subtraction, or be separated into equal parts that are themselves more or 
less numerous. 

These concepts cannot be so readily defined as they can be imaged and exemplified. To 
explain and illustrate what they are we must take objects and count them. Their meaning is 
originally taught and repeatedly explained by the directions, do so and so with them, take ob- 
jects and count them thus and thus. In other words, they rest upon postulates as truly as do 
the concepts of geometry. They assume that the mind can perform certain thought-processes 
which result in certain thought-products. The psychological conditions of these processes are 
distinguished objects, whether material or spiritual. Their logical condition is the reality of 
time-relations, and of time itself as making these relations possible. That number depends 
upon and implies time, is obvious still further, from the language which we continually use in 
our definitions and analyses. "We say, add this so many times ; ten taken twice, i. e. two times ten, 
is twenty ; ten divided one time by five, or diminished once by three, is respectively two and 
seven. 



554 THE HUMAtf INTELLECT. §574 

'.'■'§ 573. The application of number to magnitude, or of the 

The application ° ' Jrx '* . v ' 

of number to concepts of discrete to those of continuous quantity, depends 

magnitude. . V. ,• 

on the mutual relations of time and space objects which have 
already been explained, § 557. If number can be applied to the parts of 
space and time in the concrete, so that one can measure the other, then the 
concepts of number can be applied to the concepts of magnitude, for both 
of these are resolved into and explained by their origin in individual time 
and space objects. We take any portion of space as a whole, we divide it 
into parts, we number these parts, we discern ratios between them. We 
express the powers of curves by their equivalent formulae of lines, as symbo- 
lized by numbers, creating all those conceptions and performing those pro- 
cesses which modern analysis has discovered and applied. 

VIII. Of the application of mathematical conceptions to Material 
phenomena. 

Why, and how §574. Thus far we have considered the pure mathematics. 
cai concepts are Pure geometry seems to deal only with ideal constructions 

applicable to ma- . ■ °_ ■ -, • , . -i i i • i • -i i 

teriai objects. m ideal space, and pure arithmetic and algebra with ideal 
concepts conditioned by abstract or ideal Time. How can it be possible 
to apply these ideal creations to material things and sensible phe- 
nomena? To this general question we give the following general answer. 
These concepts of number and magnitude, are all generalized from the in- 
dividual relations of concrete objects and events to both space and time. 
We cannot explain or understand them except as we go back to such ob- 
jects and find them realized in these. In the order of time and acquisition 
we know applied number and applied magnitude before we know pure 
number and pure magnitude. The latter are always explained by the 
former. 

Moreover, as number and magnitude are in a certain sense idealized 
when they are affirmed of concrete objects, and the mind discerns a differ- 
ence between the ideal and the real, so is it when these concepts are gener- 
alized and the inferences from them are reapplied to these objects. We 
do not expect that they will exactly conform. Certain properties of 
matter were necessarily left out of view in forming such concepts. These 
must all be considered and brought into view to modify our ideal inferences. 
In estimating the velocity of bodies Ave consider them as capable of con- 
stant force and of accelerated motion, the force being manifested in, and 
estimated by motion. When w T e compare the results of our mathematical 
processes we do not find that they hold good. Why should they ? Our 
data were ideal. They assumed what rarely if ever actually occurs, 
i. e., a force entirely constant and equable. Or if this were real, certain 
properties or attributes of moving bodies were omitted in our estimate of 
the result, e. </., the increase of resistance with the increase of velocity. 



§575. MATHEMATICAL DELATIONS : TIME AND SPACE. 55 i 



Example in Me- 



In. Mechanics, bodies are viewed as attracted by gravitation, as held togethc 

by cohesion, as impelled by a natural or artificial agency, as capable of both 
chanics. force and motion, as acquiring and losing velocity. But gravitation, in these 

concepts, is idealized as a constant force manifested in motion, the rapidity 
of which is inversely as the square of the distance. The nature of gravity itself as a ma- 
terial agent, is not considered, nor that of inertia; nor is the resistance of intervening media, 
but only the simple fact of motion, or a tendency to motion, with certain constant relations to 
space and time. In like manner cohesion is conceived as manifested in the phenomena of mo- 
tion. So the laws and properties of bodies in motion and pressure are expressed by space and 
time relations. Whether bodies do in fact move or tend to move with regularity in these 
relations so that their motions can be measured and computed, are facts that can be ascertained 
and vouched for by observation and induction only. 

In illustration of this we observe that Newton's great laws in respect 

Newton's great to the causes and continuance of force and motion are all generalized 

laws of Mechan- ° 

ics. observations of facts of sense enforced on grounds of high probability. In 

other words, they are grounded upon induction. These laws or facts being 
assumed, we reason and compute with respect to the direction and rate of bodies in mo- 
tion, with respect to the pressure and weight of bodies tending to move, and with re- 
spect to the results of bodies conspiring together in motion, just as we can reason or com- 
pute with respect to a sizeless or weightless point that is supposed to move in a breadthless 
line. That is, we apply to these material objects the concepts, relations and laws of the 
pure mathematics. But when we compare the results of our computations and demonstrations 
with bodies actually existing and phenomena actually occurring, we find that the two do not coin- 
cide. When we find that the prophecy given by the demonstration or computation is not fulfilled 
by the facts of the velocity, weight, or pressure of the material bodies with which we come in 
contact, we account for the discrepancy by those elements or properties which we were 
obliged wholly or partially to disregard, such as inertia, resistance, friction, and the like. In 
many cases these are so unimportant that we subject them to no estimate, but take the result 
as exact enough for our purposes. In other cases, as in gunnery, astronomy, and the working 
of machinery, we seek to express the value and effect of these very forces in mathematical 
concepts and formulae, and subject them to mathematical computation, according to the prin 
ciples and methods which had been applied to the prime forces. 

§ 575. As all material objects must of necessity hold relations to space, and all material 
All material ob- events or phenomena relations to time, and as our perceptions of each must be formed in 
jects susceptible some or ^ e r of time, it follows that they all are susceptible in some sort of mathematical 
relations. relations. The tendency to seek and expect regularity and uniformity in these relations 

was very naturally suggested and very early developed to the thoughts of men. It was 
natural to believe that the heavenly bodies which moved, or appeared to move, advanced at regular rates of 
speed and returned to their starting places at uniform intervals of time. This expectation prompted the ear- 
liest observations of astronomy, and its conclusions rest on the inductions which this speculation excited. 
When the phenomena of matter began to be accounted for by their causes, and the active agents or 
forces of nature were ascertained, it was natural to believe that these several efforts and products 
were obedient to and dependent upon the mathematical relations of the working of these causes, either 
their quantity of matter, the rate of their motion, or both of these combined. Exact observations and care- 
ful experiments confirmed the truth of these anticipations in respect to many phenomena, and in this way 
was evolved what are called the laws of mechanics, both on the earth and in the heavens. The successful 
discovery and establishment of one mathematical law after another by Galileo, Kepler, Newton, and La- 
place, greatly extended the domain of this kind of knowledge. 

When the agents or elements of the new chemistry were discovered, and their nature 
determined, as oxygen, hydrogen, etc., and when many well-known substances were de- 
chemistry, composed into these and kindred elements ; when, also, the reality of chemical union 
and chemical products was vindicated, the bright thought of the mathematical Dal- 
ton that these agents unite with one another in constant weights of atoms or 
volumes of gas at the same temperature, introduced a luminous order into the whole sphere of chemical 
science, and subjected its wonderful phenomena to the control of definite mathematical laws. Upon this 



556 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §575. 

conjecture, verified into a discovery, rests the precise nomenclature of the later chemistry and its compact 
and almost algebraic symbolization. 

As the consequence of these remarkable discoveries of a rigid obedience to mathematical law in 
the most poetical of the physical sciences, the impression was confirmed in the minds of many students 
of nature, that we ought to expect and seek for the observance of mathematical relations in every depart- 
ment of matter, even in those material conditions on which psychological phenomena depend. It was 
early discovered that the quality of harmonious musical tones emitted from a stringed instrument de- 
pends on the length of the strings and the coincidence of their vibrations ; that when the string on being 
struck springs backward and forward in the same or proportional times, the sound which pleases the ear 
is the result, while if the times or fractions of times in these vibrations fail to correspond, discordant and 
displeasing tones are certain to follow. 

By and by, light, or the material agent or condition of vision, was subjected to scientific 
thought and inquiry. It was first conceived to be a material substance, the particles 
•Hcs ° a °^~ °^ "^idi P r oceed in right lines from all luminous and illuminated bodies, from 
which lines they are reflected and refracted by material agents, so as to produce 
the effects, or, more exactly, to furnish the conditions of vision. To these pro- 
cesses of reflection and refraction, mathematical relations and formulas were at once applied with the same 
propriety as they had been previously used to explain the motions of other bodies. As the phenomena 
corresponded to these mathematical formulae, the formulae themselves were accepted as their established 
laws, and the laws of light as expressed by mathematical relations took their place among the laws of other 
material bodies. When the theory of undulations was suggested, and the phenomena of light were sup- 
posed to admit of a more satisfactory explanation on the supposition of the excitement and propagation of 
a series of wave-like motions in the matter of light, the mathematical relations proper to such undula- 
tions were at once brought into requisition, and formulas appropriate to undulating motion were accepted as 
expressing the laws of light. 

The material conditions of hearing, or the agent or element of sound was tried in its 
turn, partly because of the laws which were known to attend those vibrations that yield 
To sound and musical tones, and partly because of the success which had been achieved in explaining 
by mathematical relations the phenomena of light. The theory was soon accepted, that 
these relations are also applicable to the science of acoustics. 

Next in order it was suggested, that the sensations of heat can be explained upon the 

theory of the more or less rapid vibrations of the particles of matter that are occasioned 

To heat. by the subtle agent or influence which is called caloric or heat, if its vibrations are 

subject to regular, i. e., to mathematical formulae and laws. "Whether heat itself 

is only a form or mode of motion, so that the phenomena can be resolved into moving 

particles, or whether these regular motions are only the attendant signs of the presence of a specific agent ; 

it is almost an accepted truth that the laws of heat can be expressed by formulae appropriate to motion. 

The attempt has been made to account for the conditions of taste, smell, and touch by the vibration 
of material particles in objects as responded to by the vibrating nervous substance, but no facts or laws 
have yet been educed which give to this attempt more than the semblance of success. 

The suggestion has more than once been confidently urged, that the varying phenomena 
_, , , . - of the whole physical universe may be resolved by supposing masses or particles of mat- 
the correlation ter either moving or having a tendency to move according to fixed mathematical re- 
of forces. lations. It is obvious, as has already been observed, that every material object, whether 

a mass or a molecule, is capable of holding certain relations to space and time, and is 
thereby capable of those relations which are called mathematical. In this we find provision for the possi- 
bility that matter, in all its phenomena, should act according to mathematical formulae. This possibility 
was conceived by one of the earlier philosophers to be a fact, when he asserted that number rules all things, 
and that harmony, rhythm, and even music pertain to the motions of the heavenly bodies. Plato, in a 
moment of sagacious insight reaching almost to inspiration, exclaimed, God geometrizes. He said this with 
confident enthusiasm, indeed, yet not without decisive grounds of reason, for he could not believe it possi- 
ble that the Great Architect, if he could construct and move the universe according to the relations and laws 
made possible by space and time, should avoid doing so. To establish this conjecture into, a fact has been 
the slow work of science during the centuries that have intervened, and its work is not yet complete. 

It is one thing to believe, and even to prove that all the laws of matter can be expressed 
in mathematical formulas, and another to ascertain what these formulas are. It was easy to 
believe with Pythagoras that number must rule in the universe, but it required the close ob- 
servation and experimenting of centuries to bring the human mind to a standpoint from 
which it could determine the numbers according to which chemical elements unite and are de- 
composed. So also it was natural, and almost necessary, for Plato to believe that the Architect 
of the heavens built and moves the celestial bodies by geometrical relations and laws ; but it 



§ 576. MATHEMATICAL RELATIONS : TIME AND SPACE. 557 

required the observation and thought of Ptolemy, Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler, before Newton 
and Laplace could fix the laws and formulae under which the geometry of the heavens is no* 
comprehended and expressed. 

IX. Of the application of mathematical relations to Psychical phe 
nomena. 

Application of § 5 ^ 6, J ^ J1 earnest an( * persistent effort has been made to subject the phenom 
mathematics to ena of the soul to mathematical formulas and relations, similar to those which 
soul ; arguments hold good of material objects and agencies. The grounds or reasons for thia 
for lt# attempt are : First. Analogy would lead us to suppose that the media by which 

alone material phenomena are satisfactorily explained, may in some way or other be employed 
to account for the phenomena of the soul. Second. There is a large and important class of 
mental phenomena which seem to act according to the general methods which govern the phe- 
nomena of matter. Such are those forces which regulate the return of objects previously 
known, as in memory or imagination. These objects, or the mind's impressions of them, seem 
to be endowed with a force or tendency by which one struggles with another for the mastery, 
like mechanical or chemical forces, and the question which shall prevail is determined by the 
preponderant strength of one over the other. Third. If we cannot apply mathematical relations 
to psychological facts, then we cannot reduce these facts to science at all. Mathematical re- 
lations are the essential conditions of scientific knowledge. In the earlier stages of scientific 
knowledge, facts explained and arranged by their conditions and causes might be called science, 
but it is not so at present. The expression of laws by means of mathematical formulas, is 
essential to constitute any species of knowledge scientific. 

Over against these considerations may be urged the following. First. The 
Arguments analogy between material and psychical phenomena is too remote or feeble to 
view? S 1 warrant the inference in question. As we pass from the one to the other, we 

are more impressed by the differences than we are by the similarities that 
present themselves. We are justified in the inference that much may be true of the one which 
cannot hold good of the other. Again, we observe that the higher psychical phenomena, 
those which are preeminently and distinctively spiritual, are peculiar in this, that in them the 
soul exerts an agency which is self-active and free, and in this is totally unlike those which 
are passive and inert. In these higher functions there seems scarcely to be a feature of like- 
ness with the phenomena to which mathematical or material properties belong. Take the 
act itself of apprehending mathematical relations, and of measuring material force by means 
of them, or acts such as those by which Plato or Pythagoras surmised, and Newton or Dalton 
demonstrated that these relations give laws to the material universe. Can it be conceived that 
such an act should itself be the result of psychical forces acting according to these very laws ? 
If so, then by the operation of forces acting according to mathematical laws are evolved the 
convictions that these laws hold good of the universe. Second. The psychical phenomena 
which are in any degree analogous to those material forces which are mathematically deter- 
mined do not and cannot exist or move in space, and therefore are incapable of any known or 
estimable relations to space. All those forces which are measured by mathematical relations 
are spatial in their action. It is impossible that mental forces or phenomena shouJd come 
under similar relations. The conceptions and relations by which they are conceived as mov- 
ing, striving against, excluding, and repressing one another, are figurative expressions arising 
from the necessities of language. They cannot be pressed to a literal construction. Inas- 
much, then, as these forces have no relation to space, one of the essential conditions of 
mathematical laws, it may be they are exempt entirely from such laws. Third. It is to beg 
the question to assert that if mental phenomena cannot be regulated by mathematical laws, 
they cannot be the subjects of scientific estimates. No one has a right to assume that scien 
tific knowledge must cease where mathematical relations cannot apply. 



558 THE HUMAH INTELLECT. § 577 

X. Of the relation of space and time concepts to Motion. 
can time and § 577. It has already been shown that the space and time 

space relations, . - ' . _. • ; . 

etc., be still far- relations oi objects can be generalized as truly as their sen- 
edT l sible or spiritual properties, and when so generalized can 

become universals of a very wide extension. The inquiry naturally sug- 
gests itself whether these relations can be still further generalized, and so 
be included under a concept of a still wider extension, as well as 
be subordinated under one another. In other words, can the here-ness, 
the there-ness, the distance, the breadth, the height, depth, and solid content 
of material objects, or their correlated mental images be set forth under a 
group of relations or attributes which are of still wider extent or appli- 
cation than themselves ? Likewise, can the now-ness, the then-ness, the 
past-ness, the futurity and duration, of an event be also generalized in a 
similar way ? 

Last of all, can time and space relations be brought together, and generalized by means 
of the relations common to the two, so that they can be coordinated in a logical classification, 
and can be defined by logical definitions ? These inquiries have often been made and answered 
with more or less success by different philosophers. The fact that they have been made, indi- 
cates the interest that has been awakened in the subject, and illustrates the strength of the 
tendency which impels the mind to generalize and unite all the objects of its knowledge, even 
those which are so attenuated and abstract as space and time. 

One of the most general properties or attributes of material objects is their 
of raoUou^Bu^ capacity for motion. Every material thing can be moved. The eye and the 
gests space-rela- hand learn to separate the objects of perception from the great universe with 

which they are at first united, by the circumstance that they are moved and 
movable. The limiting surfaces, edges and corners of such objects are determined and traced 
out by the moving of the hand or the eye along or up to their several limits. Every act of 
motion brings with it the possible suggestion of some one of the relations of space. As an 
edge or surface cannot be perceived without involving to the percipient the relation of either 
to space, and as motion enables the mind to follow or apprehend the edge or surface, so 
does motion become the medium of bringing the relations of linear or superficial extension to 
imagination and thought. If the direction of the moving limit be changed, and the line 
or lines, the surface or surfaces are followed by the moving hand or the moving eye to the 
place of starting, then a superficies, or a solid portion of space, must be included to the 
touching hand, the following eye, the picturing imagination, and the generalizing thought. 
These motions, with their directions, can neither be perceived nor imagined without suggesting 
the corresponding relations to space of the objects which have moved, or which are bounded 
by moving objects. 

We conclude, then, that there is not a single relation of space which 
cannot at once be brought before the mind, and, as it were, be created to 
the fancy by some act or process of motion. Motion is, therefore, equally 
extensive with all these relations. It attends them all. It can suggest 
them all. Each one of them can, therefore, in a certain sense, be expressed 
and defined in terms and concepts of motion. 



§577. MATHEMATICAL EELATIOXS : TIME AND SPACE. 559 

Not only is this true of the relations of extension, but 
tions of position, even those of position can be expressed by means of motion. 
The meaning of here and there, above and below, behind 
and before, are all definable by acts of motion — to and from, this way and 
that way, — -joined with counter or arresting motions, which stop their 
progress. When the question is asked of a child, What do you mean by 
these terms ? it invariably replies by explanations of this kind. It says, 
in effect, Move an object in this or that direction, and then arrest it, and 
it will be here or there, before or behind, above or below. 

The relations of time can also be generalized by means of 
tiJns^time! 13 * motion. The motion of material objects suggests the rela- 
tions of time as truly as it does the relations of space. A 
moving body suggests duration as truly as it does extension, when the 
motion is complete ; the act of starting suggests then as truly as it does 
there ; the act of stopping suggests now as well as here. It may have come 
to do so by a secondary and transferred meaning, but it does so in fact and 
by a universal and inevitable connection. 

Even when time is thought or affirmed of mental acts and events, it is still 
Time-relations : represented by motion in space. Every such act is capable of being at- 
by motion. tended by some bodily movement. In point of fact, every mental act or state 

is so attended, whether it is observed or not. Hence, by a natural conse- 
quence, when time is affirmed of processes (or states) that are purely spiritual, its relations are 
expressed in language and thought by motions that are corporeal. As the language and con- 
cepts of time, when applied to the spirit, are taken exclusively from space-relations, originally 
derived from material objects, so do such concepts come under the relations to motion which 
these involve. It follows that motion furnishes all the materials /or a common generalization 
of both space and time objects, and that time and space relations by means of motion can be 
comprehended by a common classification in the same logical system. 

It also follows that mathematical entities or quanta are produced to the mind 
Also mathema- an a defined by means of motion, the motion in such case being both imaged 
and generalized. This follows of necessity of what has already been ex- 
plained of the relation of concrete objects and events to the several concepts 
of magnitude and number. The truth of this proposition is still further confirmed by the 
language of mathematical definitions. These definitions always rest upon, and can be ex- 
pressed by postulates. These postulates always suppose an act or acts of motion. In geome- 
try we say, draw a line ; terminate or bisect a line, giving a point ; move a line and it gives a 
surface. In arithmetic and algebra we say count, that is, unite as wholes, or add, subtract, mul- 
tiply and divide ; all of which terms suggest or suppose some image taken from spatial motion 
as the result of the constant conjunction already adverted to, of the duration of the con- 
scious spirit with its attendant measured space. 

in what sense is It ought however to be kept in mind, that motion is not 
StioiTof gener- the medium or instrument of generalization in precisely the 
aiization . sa me way as the other attributes or properties of matter and 

spirit become so. Thus, we define the notion egg, by the various 
properties which constitute its logical essence, or, as we say, make up its 
definition. So, too, we define a material act which is complex, by resolv 



560 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §577. 

ing it into its simpler constituents, going back till we reach those which 
are ultimate and indecomposible. In a similar way we define spiritual 
beings and spiritual acts. In both cases we begin with the most generic 
concepts, and come down to those which are more specific. For the ex- 
planation of these properties or attributes, whether generic or specific, 
we must resort to experience, either of sense-perception or consciousness. 
This experience is presupposed in all definition. Simple ideas cannot be 
defined or analyzed. No definition can convey to the blind the meaning 
of color [generic] or of red color [specific]. 

Time and space attributes [more exactly time and space relations] are not given to expe- 
rience precisely as are sensible and spiritual properties. They are involved in all experience, 
but they are not properly experienced. The space-relations of a concrete object are not 
apprehended by sense-perception in the narrowest sense of the term, but in connection with 
sense-perception. The same is true of time relations as apprehended by consciousness. 
When these objects are imaged, the same distinction is to be observed between what we 
directly experience, aad what is given with experience, and, in a certain sense, is involved in 
experience. "We can only image what we perceive. We cannot, as has been already said, 
§ 566, image or picture space or time relations as such, but we can image those objects of 
sense and consciousness which involve space and time relations. Motion is not an object of 
sense-perception in the narrow meaning of the term, but it ia its constant condition and 
accompaniment, i. e., it always involves some space-relations, and for this reason it can become 
the means by which these relations can be generalized and defined. For the explanation 
of the import of its terms and the concepts which they designate, we must refer to experience 
as we do in the case of sensible and spiritual qualities, i.e., we must assume and presuppose 
that every one knows what motion is in all its directions and varieties. With this medium 
at our command, we proceed to our constructions and definitions. 

To this view two objections may be urged. The first is, that space and time are as truly 
Two objections, assumed and involved in the concept and definition of motion, as motion is required for 
lirst, that mo- the concepts and definitions of space and time. We define motion, it is said, as a change 
Space and Time. °^ P^ ace > an ^ place is a relation of space. The objection is more plausible than real. 

The terms change and place are indeed used in this attempted definition, but that does 
not prove that both are not definable by concepts of motion. What is place but some determinable or de- 
termined relation of space ? But how is it determinable or determined except by means of motion ? How is 
change of any sort, whether material or spiritual, made conceivable or general to the mind except by 
means of spatial motion? The question to be decided is, which furnishes the most general of elements or 
media for general concepts or definitions ; which concept is the most generic, the concept of space or the 
concept of motion. It might be granted, perhaps, that the percepts and images of motion and space 
are equally original and therefore coordinate, and yet it would not follow that the concept of the one was 
not more generic than the concept of the other. The same may be said of the intuition and concept of 
time as compared with those of motion. 

Again : it is obvious that we may have an intuition of motion as of sense-percepts per 
Their relations se, without adverting distinctly to the relations of either to space. We may see a colored 
to motion not j^g or f n ow a moving body in a linear path, without distinguishing by analysis the 
verted to. length of either as involving the space to which the length or superficies is related. 

This being so, the motion might be more suitable as a medium of generalizing our con- 
cepts of space relations than the space and its relations which it is desirable to conceive and define by 
means of motion. That to which the mind first and most readily attends ; that which it most familiarly 
recalls ; that which it most easily recognizes, would be better fitted for such a purpose thaji that which is 
less obvious and less familiar, even though both were equally general. 

It is urged again, that the rate of motion is always estimated by means of time: the 
It is urged that swiftness or slowness of motion from one point of space to another is computed by the 
the rates of mo- longer or shorter time which is required to move from the one to the other. This is 
ma ted' by time." * rue > tut eo & S a ^ a is it truc tna * duration itself, as longer or shorter, is described and 

conceived by the length of spaco passed over by a body supposed to be moving 
etcadily ; and that two or more equal portions of duration are measured and set forth by the same or equal 



§578. MATHEMATICAL EELATIOXS : TIME AND SPACE. 561 

portions of space passed over by a moving body. Motion involves time and space, else it could not gene- 
-iiilize oi' define either. Both time and space are presupposed as the conditions of motion. Eeal time and 
:tal space are assumed in order that the concepts of motion Bhould be possible, but it does not follow that 
that which is selected as the means by which both are generalized into concepts is not that motion which is 
so intimately connected with each as to suggest both whenever it is perceived or imaged. 

The second objection would be that not motion only, but motion and direction are re- 
Second objec- quired for the generalization of space and time objects, and especially for the construc- 
tion, that direc- tion an ^ definition of mathematical quanta. A line cannot be drawn or conceived as 
as well as mo- straight or curved, without introducing the element of direction to a fixed point or of 
tion. variation from it. One or more continuous surfaces cannot be made to include a con- 

tent of space without a change in direction which is observed and recognized as an ele- 
ment in its product or construction. Let this be granted, and still it does not follow that the concept of 
motion is not the most generic. Direction supposes motion ; direction is specific and is itself a means of 
making specific the more generic concept of motion. Motion cannot occur or be conceived of without 
taking some direction, any more than without implying space and time as its real conditions. This rather 
proves than otherwise that motion is itself the most generic or the ultimate concept of all. Cf. A. Tren- 
delenburg, Logische Uhtcrsuchungen, Berlin, 1840. Ite Aufl., Leipzig, 1862. 

8 578. The extended and enduring objects which Ave have 

Extended and ° - -. n -, . • -, i . -, , i • 

enduring objects thus far considered, are limited objects, and the relations to 

are limited. ... _ . . , ■ ' , - . ' _ ' - -_ , 1 _. 

space and time which they involve belong to these objects 
as limited. Whether these objects with their relations are presented by 
sense-perception or consciousness, are represented to the imagination 
or generalized in thought, they are necessarily definite and limited. The 
so-called dimensions of extension — length, breadth, and thickness, — and 
the various relations of duration, can only be affirmed of finite beings and 
activities. These beings must occupy portions of space. Every length, 
every breadth and thickness perceived, is definite in its dimensions. So 
is it with every one of either that is represented. So is it with every one 
that is generalized ; even the general conceptions of either contemplate and 
suppose only some definite dimensions of each. The generic word exten- 
sion supposes extension as applied to limited and measurable objects, and 
therefore always signifies limited extension. The same is true of duration 
and its attributes or relations. Even mathematical relations can only be 
conceived of as limited or definite quantities. These, as we have seen, 
presuppose some objects imagined to exist in space, or series of such objects 
connected by acts continuous in time, of which certain attributes and 
relations are affirmed, i.e., they invariably presuppose limited objects. 

Mathematics re- Mathematical science has to do only with mensurable and of course with def- 

cognizes meas- inite quantity. The infinite and indefinite have properly no place in mathe- 
u r a b 1 e, and . n _■/ . „ , . , .,.„..., 

therefore de- matics. T\ hat is called the mathematical infinite is either a quantity as yet 
finite quantity^ not measurec i or numbered, or quantities in respect to which these processes 
have been begun but are not yet completed ; or a quantity so nearly commensurable that the 
one may be substituted for the other. The so-called infinite quantities of the mathematics are 
quantities not yet actually or proximately defined, i. e., mensurable but not yet measured or de- 
fined. They should be carefully distinguished from what, in distinction from them, may be called 
the actual infinite or unconditioned. Not that the two are wholly unrelated, or independent of 
one another, but that they are by no means the same. The conception of the mathematical 
l.tjnite or indefinite may be rendered possible by the real infinitude of time and space, but as 
concepts the two are wholly diverse, if indeed we can be said to have any concept at all cf the 
latter. 

36 



562 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §579. 

XL Of Space and Time as infinite and unconditioned. 
Extension and § 579. The several attributes of extension and duration are 
guisned from, not only attributes of limited objects and therefore mensura- 
space and time, ble and definable, but they involve relationship to another 
sort of objects, and a knowledge of the existence of these objects. These 
objects are space and time. The attributes of extension and duration, 
though predicable of matter and spirit and their phenomena, are unlike 
the qualities of matter and spirit in that they have no positive import 
given in the experience of sense and consciousness, but in their nature 
carry the mind to other objects to which they hold relations. The definite 
length or breadth, the superficial or solid content of a material box or 
ball are not only afiirmable of the matter of which the box or ball consists, 
but imply a relation to, and are attributable of, the object or objects 
adjacent ; whether these are material, one or many, as the air which sur- 
rounds them, or which if hollow they are conceived to include ; or whether 
these are void of all matter whatever. The adjacent object or objects are 
in their turn limited objects, and besides, their material qualities hold 
similar relations to other objects, whether these possess or are void of 
material qualities. The duration of one or more acts or events is not 
merely afiirmable of one or more of the acts or events, but it involves 
possible relations to other acts and events — coexistent, preceding and fol- 
lowing — and also to the Time to which all are related and whose existence 
they all imply. 

Nothing is more clear to human cognition than that the so-called material and spiritual 
properties are distinguishable from their attributes of extension and duration. The peculiar- 
ity of the last consists in their being in their very nature space and time relations. That is, 
while they are predicable, and therefore properties of things and events, they imply and reveal 
relations to those entities or objects which are called time and space. 

These attributes and properties, when considered collectively are or may be called exten- 
sion and duration. The appropriate names of the entities to which these properties involve 
relations, are time and space. Thus distinguished, extension and duration, i. e., extension and 
duration in the concrete or the extension and duration of individual objects, are known by 
experience, while space and time, as soon as they are apprehended at all, are known to be 
d priori, i. e., the necessary and fundamental conditions of all actual existences and events as 
extended and enduring. 

These relations ^ * s not asserte( ^ tnat m a Pply m g these attributes to objects 
not always die- of experience the mind necessarily adverts to the relations 

tinctly adverted r J 

to. ' to time and space which they imply, but only that when the 

mind gives attention to them, it cannot fail to discover that these relations 
are implied, and with them the existence of time and space. To make 
this discovery the mind may need to make the experience of many objects 
of sense and consciousness. It may need the discipline of many acts of 
attention to separate and analyze what is at first known confusedly and 
without discrimination. 



§580. MATHEMATICAL RELATIONS : TIME AND SPACE. 563 

In order fully to appreciate the time and space relations of objects and events to one 

another as well as to time and space themselves, the imagination may need to be called into 

exercise. One material object may need to be annexed to another and still others to all these, 

before space can be fully understood in all the relations which it involves to the extended 

objects thus believed or supposed to exist, or to other extended objects besides. In like 

manner, many events must be experienced, in order that the common relations of all these, 

and of all conceivable enduring objects, to time, may be distinctly apprehended and clearly 

distinguished from the time which is common to them all. The psychological conditions of 

knowledge are clearly distinguishable from the nature and the evidence of the objects that are 

known. The one describes the subjective conditions that render it possible for an individual 

to employ and apply his mind in such a manner as to discern a fact or truth. The other 

describes objectively, what in its nature is knowable by all individuals under these subjective 

conditions, and the evidence, if there be any, by which it is known. 

■ . , , „ We have already indicated the several stages or degrees of progress through 

Discerned at the . . , , . , , . .,,.„. « , . , . 

last of the stages which the mind may proceed in mastering the full import of, and m reachmg 

development distinct assent to, the remoter objects and relations that are gained by Intui- 

tion. We have clearly distinguished between the clearness and certainty 
of that which is knowable and the possibility that it should be clearly and certainly known 
by this or that individual or even by this or that class of men. 

These attributes, known collectively as extension and duration, are not on the one hand 
properly qualities of material or spiritual beings and their acts, nor, on the other, are they the 
supersensible entities themselves, called Space and Time, but they are the relations of the objects 
and phenomena of sense and consciousness to these supersensible entities. Being relations they 
imply the reality of the objects related, and they cannot be understood or known except by 
means of these objects. 

§ 5 80. Extension and duration are also the limits or the grounds 
j^aSdevente! of the limits of objects and events. Not only are they rela- 
tions of objects to supersensible entities, but they enable the 
mind to distinguish objects from one another as diverse in place, as near, 
remote, here, and there; as in this or that direction ; as now, then, past, pres- 
ent and future. These pertain not to space and time, but to objects and 
events as related to Space and Time, and therefore and by this means to 
one another as also related to space and time. 

Strictly speaking, when these relations are used as limits, they are relations not between 
the concrete object and time or space, but to two objects as existing in space or in time, 
or as conceived thus to exist. When, for example, I perceive a box either inclosing or inclosed 
by what we call a void, and affirm that which is without, is not that which is within, or con- 
versely ; both that which is without and within are conceived as matter with surfaces mutually 
coinciding, but yet dividing or limiting the one from the other. If I conceive of the outmost 
limit of the universe of matter and ask what is beyond, immediately as I ask the question I 
attach the limiting surface to other matter which is conceived to be beyond, and the outlines of 
which I begin to trace by the constructive motion of which the imagination is capable. Of this 
outline, one portion, viz., the limiting surface already described, is fixed. The others are not 
yet drawn; the mind has no occasion even to conceive them drawn, and it rests in the 
knowledge or belief that it might complete them in any way in which it chooses. But as soon 
as they should be completed they must necessarily be conceived as inclosed by or inclosed with 
matter, for the simple reason that an extended surface of that which has no actual being can- 
uot be conceired or thought of. 

In a similar way the instant which terminates or limits an event, is the beginning of an 



564 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §582. 

other as yet inchoate or incomplete. So the beginning of an event already past, is the end of 
the event that was transacted before it. 

What we call Space and Time are those entities which can be occupied, as we say, by being3 
and events, i. e., which render their actual existence possible, and which in rendering them pos- 
sible, also make it possible that they should be limited from one another, or distinguished from 
one another by their common relations to space and time. 

Extension and § 5 ^* Extension and duration cannot be affirmed of Space 
edof Sn'fSS axi( ^ Time per se, but of existing material objects and actually 
events only. occurring events as mutually related to and limited by one 
another by reason of their common relation to space and time. We cannot 
conceive of parts of space or time as diverse from one another, or as mutu- 
ally related, as here and there, before and after, without the aid of beings 
and events. Even those which are conceived to be bounded by surfaces and 
lines, as geometrical quantities and the so-called portions of duration, 
which may be divided by instants, are only conceivable as occupiable by 
bodies and events. The matter of either may be imagined as so refined in 
its nature as to admit of great refinement in these limits or relations, but 
without the matter conceived as real or possible the limits and relations 
are inconceivable. 

Relations of place do not belong to space, but to bodies perceived or 
imagined to exist in or by space. Relations of time do not belong to 
duration, but to events occurring in, or by, i. e., presupposing time. 

§ 582. It follows that Space and Time are not limited, simply 

In what sense ., . . ,,,.... 7-77, ,i T 

space and Time because the conception 01 limits is inapplicable to them. It 
is by its very nature only applicable to and afiirmable of ex- 
tended matter and occurring events. When we attempt to apply it to 
Space and Time we can only do it by means of objects and events. When 
we seem to ourselves to have been successful, we find that we have really 
though perhaps unconsciously made use of such objects and events. The 
conception of limit or limitation is inapplicable to either Space or Time. 
It is in this sense that we affirm that Space and Time are unlimited. This 
attribute is purely and simply negative. It denies that the relation of limi- 
tation which pertains to bodies and acts can pertain to Space and Time. 

It does not, however, follow, because Space and Time are not limited, and that 
They are not they in this way are negatively distinguished, that they are capable of no positive 
ly'relatedf a IYC " attributes. We direct the attention for the present to the negative character 

of these relations, in order that we may preserve ourselves from many of the 
alleged incompatibilities which are conceived to be involved in the attempt to know or con- 
ceive Space and Time. Cf. § 690. 

Thus Hamilton (Met. 38) urges that we are under the necessity of conceiving space and 
Antinomies of time eitner as an absolute maximum or an absolute minimum, and that it is impossible 
Hamilton and to do either, because the mind, as soon as it has fixed the limits to the ultimately great 
Kant. or th e ultimately small, -will immediately overstep or go beyond the limits which it had 

just established, and will find itself continually baffled in its impotent efforts to grasp 
or conceive either. 

In tho same strain, Kant urges that the mind, in its attempts to conceive of space and time, is con- 



§584. MATHEMATICAL KELATIONS *. TIME AND SPACE. 565 

tinually setting up two incompatible propositions— which he calls Antinomies— both of which cannot be 
true, and yet one of which would seem to be necessary. "Both overlook that the maximum and minimum. 
which we attempt to conceive are not spaee and time, bntbodies and events as limited in space and time. 
The maximum and minimum in the case are not space and time, nor are they concepts of either, but they are 
concepts of bodies and events as related to and limited by space and time. They are limited concepts, and 
m their very nature logically inapplicable to objects which cannot be limited. To attempt to think of time 
and space under any such concepts, however great or small, is to make an effort which will involve certain 
and constant contradiction and inconsistency. To attempt to picture time and space to the Imagination is 
impossible, for we can only picture objects and events, with definite properties and characteristics. Evei 
when we lay aside all properties except what we call their time and space relations, what we picture 01 
imagine are still limited objects in space and time — objects with some defined limits of extension and du- 
ration, but not space and time themselves. It is true that every time we picture or image such objects we 
must think of their relations to their correlates, time and space ; but time and space, in themselves, can 
neither be imaged nor pictured. 

Space and Time § 5 ^ 3, -A-g a i n ? Space and Time cannot be generalized or ctppre- 
aiSed tb un e d n e l r ^ enc ^ ty or under concepts. Concepts suppose definite 
higher concepts, attributes of objects limited by and individualized in Time 
and Space. These attributes to be generalized must be similar in the in- 
dividuals to which they belong, and these similar and oft-repeated individ- 
ualized attributes must be gathered under generalized concepts. But 
Time and Space are withdrawn from these conditions of generaliza- 
tion, for they are necessarily supposed as the conditions and correlates of 
all individual existences and of their attributes. Even the relations of ex- 
tension and duration, by which individual objects are possible, cannot be 
intelligible except by means of these entities which are the necessary 
correlates to these universal properties of all individual existences. The 
properties are generalizable, but the entities themselves to which they are 
related cannot be generalized. Nor are they in dividual objects, if by that 
is intended objects which possess generalizable properties which can be 
gathered into concepts. 

§ 584. Space and Time cannot in the ordinary sense of the 

They cannot T -, „ -» -r~ n n , 

properly be de- term be defined. If we cannot form concepts of these entities 
by means of generalized attributes or relations, it is manifest 
that we cannot define these concepts, because to define is simply to state 
the attributes into which a concept thus formed can be resolved, § 391. 
They are not simple concepts, for simple concepts pertain to single inde- 
composible attributes or relations, § 390, and no one will for an instant be- 
lieve or contend that the import of either is exhausted by any single prop- 
erty or relation. 

What is demonstrated to be necessary from the nature of the case, is confirmed by fact 
and experiment when we submit to trial. Whenever we endeavor to define these entities we 
find ourselves employing concepts which presuppose that they are already known. Every con- 
cept that we use is an attribute or relation of some object or event which exists in space or 
time, and which implies some relation of either to one or both. We fall, therefore, continually 
into the circle of using in our definitions terms that presuppose that to be known which we 
attempt to define or describe. 

Not only is this shown to be necessary from reasons that are purely logical, 
Kuaffe. ty laD " ^ut the nature of language confirms this view. Even if we should concede 

that attributes . might be found which do not imply space and time, such 



566 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §585. 

attributes could not be expressed in language without supposing their existence. The exigen- 
cies of communication require that every thought attribute and relation, in order to be ex- 
pressed, should be imaged by some picture borrowed from Space and Time. Even then, if 
Space and Time did not intrude in the attributes by which we seem to define them, they 
must necessarily present themselves as images in every such effort, and they could not be 
repressed. 

When Hamilton says that these entities cannot be conceived, he doubtless has in mind what we here 
assert, that they cannot be analyzed into attributes or defined by such attributes as presuppose and imply 
their existence. "Whether this is a correct use of the term to conceive, may be a matter of question, and 
also whether the further assertion which he makes is true, that we can know by faith or believe what 
we cannot in any sense conceive. 

They are known § 585 - Space and time are known by intuition as the neces- 
S ^he^hmlted 8ar V conditions of the existence and the conception of all objects 
correlates. an( j even | S# Every object and event, as has already been ex- 
plained, has properties or attributes which imply the existence of these 
entities. In knowing that these objects exist, we know that time and 
space exist as their actual conditions. In conceiving of these objects or 
events as real or possible, we must conceive of them as related to space 
and time, and, of course, must recognize time and space as the logical con- 
ditions of their concepts. 

While, then, it is true that we can neither generalize nor define time and space, because 
the very attributes which we must employ imply both, it is true, on the other hand, that we 
cannot generalize or define any object whatever without recognizing both, and, therefore, 
time and space must enter as the material into all our concepts. Again : 

Though time and space cannot be denned or conceived by 

Axe themselves , , . „ , . , ,.,.,. \. 

the correlates of the relations oi obiects and events which imply time and 

the extended J j. V, 

and enduring. space, yet, on the other hand, as the correlates ol all such 
objects, they can be explained to the mind by means of the limited rela- 
tions which imply their real existence. It is so far from being true that, 
because space and time are known by intuition, they are known out of all 
or any relation to limited objects and events ; that it is only possible to 
know them in such relations, or connections. They are only known as 
implied in and required by the relations which are called collectively the 
extension and duration of such concrete realities. And yet, as has been 
shown, they cannot be generalized nor defined by means of any attributes 
or relations whatever, because all such imply their existence. They can- 
not, on the other hand, be suggested or recognized in either thought or 
language, except by means of these very relations which connect them 
with finite objects. 

It has already been asserted, § 517. (5) that the distinct recognition of these correlates, is, 
as it were, the fifth or last stage of the mind's attainment in cognition, which is reached by the 
> few who are trained to habits of speculative analysis and discrimination. If this is so, then 
it is obvious that the number of thinkers is very small who have any occasion to ask the 
question, whether space and time can be defined, or whether they are known out of relation 
to, or by means of their relations to the concrete. But the persons who have occasion to ask 




MATHEMATICAL EELATIONS : TIME AND SPACE. 5 CI 

Jiese questions can certainly comprehend that the very relations which cannot possibly define 
time and space, because they imply them, may, for this very reason, be the only medium ol 
bringing them before the mind for the uses of thought. 

What, then, are space and time f Are they substances, quali 
What are space ties or relations ? Or are they the forms or subjective conditions. 

of knowledge by sense or consciousness? or is it impossible to 
ascertain what they are ? These questions will force themselves upon the 
attention of a few ; and require an answer. 

Are they substances ? That they are material things with 
suKinces not sens ible qualities will scarcely be imagined or contended by 

any one. No one would honestly believe or seriously urge 
that they can be heard, or smelled, or seen, or tasted, or touched. 
All substances called material are apprehended by some of the senses, 
and hence are regarded as having sensible qualities. Space and time are 
not perceived in such a way or by such means, and hence cannot be classed 
with material substances. The earliest philosophers might, perhaps, have 
regarded them as such in their imperfect analyses or crude theorizing, but 
no sane thinker would now advance such a dogma. Nor are they 
spiritual beings. They have none of the properties of spirits. They can- 
not think, or feel, or will. Nor can they be apprehended by conscious- 
ness in the special and limited sense of the term. In a general sense we 
say we are conscious of our spiritual acts as enduring, § 554. But this is no 
more than to say we are conscious of the necessary relations of these 
acts to time. We never say w T e are conscious of any activity of time, 
which is analogous to the activities of a spiritual being. Neither time nor 
space is a spiritual substance. 
Nor are they ma- They are not qualities or properties of spirit or matter. Dr. 

ferial or spiri- " M , . • * * m 

tuai properties, bamuel Clarke maintained that space and time are attributes 

They are not . . . ..; . , _ 

relations. or modes, and that inasmuch as they were both infinite, there 

must be an Infinite Being to which they belong. James Mill, in his 
Analysis of the Human Mind, asserts that they are simply abstract terms 
which stand for collective conceptions of those attributes of extension and 
duration, which belong to individual beings and acts. But it needs no fur- 
ther discussion to prove that they are and can be neither. Nor are they 
simply relations, as Leibnitz maintained. This philosopher defined c space 
as an order of coexistences,' and 'time as an order of successions.' "Pour 
moi, 'jai marque plus qu' une fois, * * que je tenais Pespace pour quelque 
chose de purement relatif, comme le terns ; pour un ordre des coexistences 
comme le terns est un ordre de successions." — Third letter to Dr. 8. Clarice, 
§ 4, ed. Erd. p. 752. Using extension as its equivalent, he defines space as 
the order of possible coexistences ; and time as the order of inconstant pos- 
sibilities. Reply to Bayle, ed. Erd. p. 189. Calderwood defines time as 
''a certain correlation of existences," and distinguishes his own view from 



568 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §585 

that of Hamil *on, who calls it " the image or concept of a certain correla- 
tion of existences." The Phil, of the Infinite, 2d ed., 1861, chap. v. 

It is evident from what has been said already, that space and time are 
neither relations nor correlations, but correlates to beings and events. Ex- 
tension and duration are the relations or correlations in question ; but 
these involve space and time as realities. 

Again: Space and time are not forms of intuition {i.e., presentation! in the 
subjective forms sense suggested by Kant. This philosopher taught that if we distinguish the 
of the intellect. ma tter apprehended by perception and consciousness from the forms of this 

matter, then space is the form of sense-perception or external intuition, and 
time is the form of consciousness. There is a sense in which this doctrine is true. Extension 
is the form of all material objects in the sense that all such objects are perceived as extended, 
and none can be apprehended except under the form or condition of being extended objects. 
When all the matter which is given in the various sensible qualities is thought away, the rela- 
tions of extension remain. This matter is various, Each object has qualities of its own, 
and variously combined, by which it is distinguished from every other ; but all objects are 
extended. The same is true of the matter furnished in consciousness as distinguished from 
its relations of duration. 

But the doctrine as further expounded by Kant is open to two exceptions. First: He 
Kant's doctrine ^ a ^ s *° distinguish between extension and duration as relations and the correlates space 
open to two ob- and time which they involve. He does not notice that these very relations, after or 
jections. under which all objects and their concepts are and must be formed, do in their very na- 

ture involve the intuitive knowledge of space and time as realities, and that to suppose 
that they are only forms is to exclude and eliminate that which is given and affirmed by their very nature. 
Second: The suggestion or the assumption that they depend on the subjective constitution of the human 
intellect is unwarranted by positive evidence and is contradicted by the testimony of the intellect itself. 
The supposition that intellects of another order might possibly exist, which could know objects without 
the relations of space and time, is without proof and against proof (§ 533). In other words, that which 
makes it possible and necessary for extension and duration to be the formsof perception and conscious- 
ness is the fact that the objects of these two modes of knowledge are in reality related to the entities space 
and time. 

But what are these entities? Shall we say of them, as St. Augustine is 
How space and J ' ° 

time are know- reported to have said — "What is time? If not asked, I know, but 

attempting to explain, I know not ? " 
This, in one view, is correct. We know by intuition that time and space exist, and are 
related to every object, but to explain or define what they are, is not so easy. It may relieve 
our embarrassment in part to explain why we cannot answer the question in one sense, 
and why we can in another. If, in answering the question what, it is expected or re- 
quired that we should class them with objects limited by space or time, or objects having 
material or spiritual properties, or objects holding relations to space or time, in other 
words, that we should class them with beings, qualities, or relations in the ordinary accepta- 
tion of these terms, then it is obvious that we cannot answer this question at all. We cannot 
say ichat they are. But we know that they exist, I e., there exist realities which answer to the 
names. Their existence is implied in the existence of every limited object and property, 
because every such object and property is related to them. We cannot believe or know that 
the one exists without knowing that the other exists also. But can we in any sense of the 
word what explain what it is which we know exists ? We can, so far as to say that they are 
entities to which all these limited objects are related, and which are, therefore, correlates to 
them. If they are correlates to all limited objects they are known and described by their rela- 
tions to them. By their very nature they are entities to which these objects bear these rela- 
tions, and by their relations to these objects they are known and thought of. They canno* 



§586. CAUSATION AND THE RELATION OF CAUSALITY. 



560 



be said to be defined in the sense in which limited objects are defined, but they can be broughl 
to mind by language as the necessary correlates of limited existences by means of their rela- 
tions to them. 

These relations to both space and time are represented in thought and language by means 
of motion, as has already been explained, and hence it follows that space and time are set 
forth in thought and language by the same medium. 

We conclude, therefore, that though space and time cannot be con- 
ceived or defined in the sense in which those objects can be conceived and 
defined which bear relations to them, yet, on the other hand, they can be 
thought by means of their relations to these objects. Limited objects must 
be related to their unlimited correlates. These correlates can be known and 
described by means of the relations which they in their turn hold to these 
objects. In whatever sense they may be said to be unconditioned, infinite, 
and absolute, they are not so in any such sense as to exclude the possi- 
bility of being related to the limited finite. By means of these relations 
they can be both conceived and known. 



CHAPTER V. 

CAUSATION AND THE RELATION OF CAUSALITY. 

From the formal and mathematical intuitions we come to those which are real, i. e., which are 
required to explain the attributes which are respectively distinctive of material and 
spiritual beings I which unite these attributes into those concepts and classes which desig- 
nate the real existences and agencies of nature, as well as connect these with one another 
in those relations which are necessary for the systematic and rational explanation of the 
universe. Into these real relations all the actually existing properties and powers of mat- 
ter and spirit are resolved. Under the laws which regulate their operation, the effects 
and purposes that describe the universe are accomplished. We shall consider first, the 
relation of causality or causation. This is preeminently the relation which is required in 
analysis, as by means of this, beings are resolved into those elements of which concepts 
are composed, which are more or less nearly their ultimate elementary constituents and are 
more or less widely generic or extensive, according as thought and science are more or less 
successful in their achievements. 

causation as a § 586, ^ ne re ^ at i° n °f causality is sometimes called the JPtvn- 
a 1 £w iple ' anda3 c ^ e i a * °ther times the Law of causality, causation, or cause 
and effect. The first of these appellations is subjective and logi- 
cal, and designates the place which the relation or the proposition in which 
tt is expressed holds in the systematic arrangement of our knowledge, ef, 
§ 514. The other is objective and real, and indicates its universal preva- 
lence among objects actually existing. Causation as a principle is placed 
first or highest with reference to the other concepts or truths which depend 



570 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 587 

apon or are derived from it — either relatively or absolutely, according as 
the truth is received as original or derived. Causation as a law is viewed 
as a relation actually prevailing in or ruling over the finite universe of 
physical and spiritual being. 

Causation as a law may be stated thus : Every finite event is 
Se^tatcd. tw ° a cause ^ event, or, more briefly, is an effect. Causation, as 

a principle, may be thus expressed : Every finite event may 
be accounted for by referring it to a cause as the ground or reason of its 
existence. 

It is scarcely necessary to observe, that the proposition, every effect must 

Tautology to be nave a cause > * s Purely and simply identical. It is mere tautology, expanding 

avoided. in the predicate what had been implied in the subject. The term effect, in 

its import, implies a cause by a logical necessity. To say an effect must be 

caused, is as reasonable as to say, a caused event is caused, or, xy = x x y. 

That the fact or law of causation is assumed to explain and justify reasoning of every sort, 
both Deductive and Inductive, has already been shown. A reference to § 515, will serve to 
explain and enforce the relation of causation as a law, to causation as a principle, as well as 
to illustrate the sameness and difference between a real and a logical relation. 

Many Physicists insist that a distinction should be invariably made between the laws 
Power and law °f na t ure an d the powers, forces or causal agencies of nature, and that law should be in- 
how distinguish- variably restricted to the conditions or regulating methods of the acting or working of 
e< l' these powers and forces, a formal statement or formula of which is that alone which de- 

serves to be called a law. Tried by this dictum, the phrase, the Law of Causality, would 
not be accepted. That it is not improper is manifest, from the consideration that it describes and assumes 
the fact, that the causative relation is universally applicable to every event or begun existence. So con- 
ceived, the fact may properly be called a Law or Universal Method of nature. 

§ 587. Causation, both as law and principle, is affirmed of 
w hat j s a n events. But what is an event f An event is something 

event ? ° 

which is known to be, which was not ; or which begins to be 
or to occur. Events are, therefore, finite, i. €., limited by relations of space 
or time. Their existence or occurrence implies change. Something is 
here and now which was not. Of these changes it is affirmed that they 
were caused. 

In the material world, events are changes of place or relative position, mo- 
Events in the tions in space, changes of form, changes of properties in respect to existence or 
material world, intensity. If an iron ball is found in a new resting-place ; if we see it hurled 

through the air ; if it is beaten into a cubical form ; if it is rolled into a mass, 
or drawn into wire ; if, under the strokes of the hammer, it is heated, or magnetized, or made 
brittle, these are all events, i. e., new occurrences in the sense of our proposition. They are 
often called phenomena, i. e., manifestations to the senses or the consciousness of some 
causal power or agency. 

Events or phenomena are more numerous and conspicuous in the vegetable and 
In the vegetable an ^ na ^ world. There is growth, change of form and of structure, the mani- 

a n d animal festation of new colors, odors, etc. Above all, there is constant motion, as in 
world. 

the plant that waves its stem and top as if impatient that it is fastened by the 

roots to the earth ; and in the animal, that moves from place to place, and with its limbs, voice, 

and features, is ever making some new manifestation that asks to be explained. 



§588. CAUSATION AND THE RELATION OP CAUSALITY. 57i 

In the mental or spiritual sphere, there is ceaseless activity and endless pro 
In the mental duction. New thoughts, new feelings, new purposes flit before the observant 
,rorld - eye of consciousness faster than they can be accounted for. With the pro- 

gress of time, the mind is aware of an increase of its power to remember, to 
imagine, to reason, to feel, and to resolve. All these are events or phenomena. 

But besides phenomena of these classes, in acts, states, or qualities, more or 

In the produc- ] ess lasting ; there are still others in the existence and production of new and 

tion of new be- & ' " 

ings. separate beings which deserve preeminently to be called events, of each ot 

which a cause or causes are affirmed. 

Such are the division or disintegration of masses of matter by mechanical crushing or pres- 
sure, and the production of new compounds by chemical union or their decomposition into sim- 
pler elements, as the generation of a gas or the deoxydation of a metal. In vegetable and 
animal life, we have the seed or the egg, in each of which are the beginnings of a new living 
being, which, after passing through the required processes, becomes completely independent 
of its originator, and assumes the size, the strength, and developed properties of a separate ex- 
istence. Spiritual beings also begin to exist. They emerge to view by acts which show their 
presence and their power. They are sources of knowledge, power, wealth, comfort, and hope 
to other beings. 

Besides these, there are conditions or states more or less permanent which require to be 
accounted for, such as the equilibria of forces or pressures, as illustrated in the action of 
gravitation or electricity, of fluids, currents, and other tendencies. All these, so far as the 
law of causation is concerned, come under the class of events or phenomena. 

§ 588. Many of these so-called events and phenomena are 

Many events are _ , . t m-i -i ■% r> 

combined of sev- a combination oj several. Iney are complexes made up of 
many units. But the single or simple units are none the less 
truly events than the wholes of which they are constituents. Whether 
the event in question is known to he simple, or whether it is not, and yet 
is supposed to be simple, the rule holds good of it, that, whether simple 
or complex, it must be caused. Hence it makes no difference so 
far as the application of our principle is concerned, whether the event 
or phenomenon has or has not been subjected to a finished analysis, 
i e., whether it has or has not been resolved into its ultimate elements. If 
the question be raised, What is an event that cannot be further resolved, 
what is a single, or the simplest phenomenon ? we have only to reply, that 
any change the least extensive in space, or the briefest possible in time, 
which can be discerned by human observation, is a single event. It is 
the last product or result of the most refined analysis of which human 
knowledge is capable, when assisted by every appliance of discipline and 
culture and art. 

When we say, every event is caused or has a cause, we distinguish between 
Every cause is beings, tne i r acts > an ^ ^eh products. Every cause is an acting being and 
an acting being, an agent acting to some result. The result is the effect. Any thing what- 
ever, so far as it is a cause, is a being, and not a phenomenon. It may be 
itself an effect or product of the action or causal efficiency of another being or beings, but that 
which is produced is capable of action of its own. A mere phenomenon or event as such, is not 
regarded as a cause, but only as an effect. What is the difference between an acting being 



5*72 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §590 

and its capacities, or acts, or attributes, will be considered in its place. It ia enough that at 
present we notice that the distinction is real. 

8 589. Again : We distinguish between the cause of an event 
tinguished from and the conditions of its actually producing the effect. The 

stroke of a hammer is the cause of the fracture of a stone, 
of the flattening of a leaden bullet, of the heating of a bit of iron. The 
conditions of the effect would, in such a case, be said to be the properties 
of the stone, the bullet, or the iron. If the breaking, the flattening, or 
the heating of the mass are the several effects of the common cause, the 
varying effects are ascribed to the varying conditions under which, or the 
objects upon which it acts. 

In this case the effect is more properly said to be the resultant of the joint action of the 
striking hammer and the resisting stone, lead, and iron. This doctrine is thus generalized by 
Mill : " The real cause is the whole of these antecedents (or conditions), and we have, philo- 
sophically speaking, no right to give the name of cause to one of them exclusively of the 
others." Log., B. hi. c. v. §3. To the same effect, says Hamilton: "Every effect is only 
produced by the concurrence of at least two causes (and by cause, be it observed, I mean every 
thing without which the effect could not be realized)." Met. Lee. 3. In common life a dis- 
tinction is made between the efficient and patient cause, the last being put for the object, i. e., 
that in which the causal agency is manifested, or upon which it is exerted. It is obvious that 
that whose activity is most obvious or demonstrative, is called the efficient. The patient or 
recipient often manifests no force at all, as the cohesion of the stone, lead, or iron in the cases 
supposed. 

Sometimes the objects in their matter and chief elements are said to be the 
When conditions same ? but the force or causal agency is applied under diverse conditions of 
are laws. quantity, time, or distance, as a chemical agent is doubled ; the gravitating 

force operates at a varying distance ; a wave of light acts with twice a given 
rapidity. These last are called in scientific language, the laws of the acting of forces or pow- 
ers (causal agents) of nature. 

8 590. With these explanations "of the import of the terms 

The principle of ° .. * .,...,, 

causality intui- ot our proposition, we assert that the mind intuitively be- 

tively evident. -. , . . 

neves that every event is caused, ^. e., every event is pro- 
duced by the action of some agent or agents, which, with respect to the 
effect, are called its cause or its causes. 

The reasons for this view are the following : 

(a) All that we do in common or practical life, rests upon 
$Eing events" anc * * s directed by the assumption of this truth. Our explan- 
ations of events that have occurred would have no meaning 
without it. They consist in referring these phenomena to the beings or 
the agencies which have occasioned them. When these producing agents 
are discovered, and the modes and laws of their action are referred to or 
unfolded for the first time, the process of explanation is complete. 
Ground of seek- (#) When an event has occurred which is not yet accounted 
fo/aS°evOTt°Sn- for > tlie min( * is aroused to the effort to solve or explain its 
explained. occurrence; it believes just as firmly that it can be accounted 



§591. CAUSATION AND THE RELATION OF CAUSALITY. 573 

for in the way described, as if the explanation had been in fact attained. 
It is as confident that its occurrence depends upon some cause or causes, 
before, as after the cause has been determined. Upon this confidence rest 
all the inquiries and experiments which it sets on foot. 

(c) "Not only does the mind explain the past, but it relies 
Sctioiu ° f pre " upon the future, on the ground of its faith in causation. It 

provides for or secures future results by availing itself of the 
causes which it knows will produce them. It employs these agents in all 
its plans and experiments with entire certainty concerning the results 
which they will effect. It predicts these results with confidence so soon 
as it is certain of all the causes which are or may be put into action. 

(d) In these explanations and experiments the mind is iin- 
Styf d ° f cun pelled by a special emotion, called curiosity. Curiosity is 

more than an interest and desire to know an event as a fact ; 
it impels to the knowledge of its causes and laws, of its origin and growth. 
The existence of a strong and apparently original emotional capacity of 
this sort confirms the view that the relation itself is original as a law of 
existence, and that the belief in it is a fundamental principle of the mind's 
knowledge. 

What the mind unconsciously assumes to be true in practical life, it dis- 

thougiu^and tinctly and consciously applies in all the methods and processes of thought 

scientific pro- and of science. We have seen that deductive reasoning has no meaninsr ex- 
cesses. 

cept the relation of causality is assumed, and that induction in its researches 

after the forces and laws of matter and of spirit, makes the same assumption. Science, in all 
its processes, investigates the properties, the powers, the forces, the attributes, and the laws 
of all existing objects. But properties, powers, forces, and attributes are all of them terms 
which directly assert or indirectly imply that there is a causal energy or activity in these ob- 
jects. The laws of matter and of spirit have no import, and can admit no application except 
as causal agencies are affirmed which these laws measure or formulate. Except as the causal 
relation is believed or assumed, scientific knowledge can have no import, and scientific inqui- 
ries would be meaningless and impossible. 

Moreover : the relation of causality is wrought into and expressed by the 
Confirmed by structure of language. There are, in every language, classes of single words, 
language. an( j combinations of words, which decisively prove that this relation is held to 

be real by all men. There are words which express causal activity, words 
which express the reception of such activity, and words which express the change which is 
wrought in an object by means of causal activity. The grammar of every language furnishes 
proof of this, both in its etymology and its syntax. 

These considerations prove decisively, that causality, as a 
criteria of a first relation or principle ' meets all the criteria of universality, 

principle. . _ . T /* • t -i -i • 

necessity, and certainty. If it cannot be resolved into some 
other relation equally general, or more general than itself, we must con- 
clude that it is original, and intuitively discerned and believed. 

8 591. The history of speculation abounds in attempts tc 

Eesolvedby , . , , . , . . 

many into a explain the relation of causality by some relation of time. 

time-relation. . . . . ' ' . _ . . 

I his is not surprising. The relations of time pertain to all 



574 THE HUMAN INTELLECT § 591, 

objects whatever. If objects are connected by the relation of casuality, 
the same objects must be united to observation, either as co-existent or as 
successive. The most conspicuous advocates of this disposition or solu- 
tion of the causal relation, are David Hume, Dr. Thomas Drown, and 
John Stuart Mill. 

In connection with the views of each concerning the nature of the 
causal relation, it will be convenient to give their views of the way in 
which the mind is led to accept the principle of causality. 

The theory of Hume deserves consideration for the clear statements and 
The Theory of lucid style in which it is presented, for the ability with which it is defended 
portance. "^ as we ^ as ^ or * ts g reat importance in the history of modern speculation. It 

is well known that it was Hume's theory of causation which roused to more 
profound researches the antagonist philosophies of both Keid and Kant. 
What his theory was may be learned from his own language. 

" The first time a man saw the communication of motion by impulse, as hy the shock of two billiard- 
halls, he could not pronounce that the one event was connected, \>nt only that it was conjoined with the 
other. After he has observed several instances of this nature, he then pronounces them to he connected. 
What alteration has happened to give rise to this new idea of connexion? Nothing hut that he now feels 
these events to he connected in his imagination, and can readily foretell the existence of one from the ap- 
pearance of the other. When we say, therefore, that one object is connected with another, we mean only 
that they have acquired a connexion in our thought, and gave rise to this inference, hy which they become 
proofs of each other's existence ; a conclusion which is somewhat extraordinary, but which seems founded 
on sufficient evidence." * * " We may define a cause to be an object followed by another, and where all 
the objects, similar to the first, are followed by objects similar to the second. Or, in other words, where if 
the first object had not been, the second never had existed. The appearance of a cause always conveys 
the mind, by a customary transition, to the idea of the effect. Of this we have experience. We may 
therefore, suitably to this experience, form another definition of cause, and call it, an object followed by 
another and whose appearance always conveys the thought to that other." — An Inquiry concerning the 
Human Understanding, Sec. vii. p. ii. 

" Necessity is something that exists in the mind, not in objects ; nor is it possible for us ever to form 
the most distant idea of it considered as a quality in bodies. Either we have no idea of necessity, or ne- 
cessity is nothing but that determination of the thought to pass from causes to effects, and from effects to 
causes, according to their experienced union. Thus the necessity, which makes two times two equal to 
four, or three angles of a triangle equal to two right ones, lies only in the act of the understanding, by 
which we consider and compare these ideas ; in like manner the necessity of power which unites causes 
and effects, lies in the determination of the mind to pass from the one to the other." * * " There may be 
two definitions given of this relation, which are only different by their presenting a different view of the 
same object, and making us consider it either as & philosophical or as a natural relation ; either as a com- 
parison of two ideas or as an association betwixt them. We may define a cause to be ' an object precedent 
and contiguous to another, and where all the objects resembling the former are placed in like relations of 
precedency and contiguity to those objects that resemble the latter.' If this definition be esteemed de- 
fective, because drawn from objects foreign to the case, we may substitute this other definition in its 
place, viz., ' a cause is an object precedent and contiguous to another, and so united with it that the idea 
of the one determines the mind to form the idea of the other, and the impression of the one to form a 
more lively idea of the other.' " — A Treatise of Human Nature, B. I. sec xiv. 

The Theory contained in these statements and definitions is 
Hume as°briefiy briefly this : a cause is a constantly precedent, and an effect a 

constantly subsequent event. They are discovered to be 
such by the constant conjunction of the two. The necessity by which 
objects conjoined, are connected as cause and effect, arises from their 
being united in the mind's own experience, and the circumstance that the 
thought or observation of the one determines the mind to a lively idea 
of the other. 



§591. CAUSATION SV THE EELATION OF CAUSALITY. 575 

_ . A little reflection reveals the fact that Hume does not at all account for the 

Doevjot profess 

to he universal belief or expectation that every event or object is connected "with some other 

tioru S aPP 1Ca ~ as * ts attendant cause or effect. His analysis, admitting it to be sufficient for 

those cases to which it is applied, would only explain why some few events 

are connected with certain others as causes or effects, but does not show at all, why it i3 

believed that all events are so conjoined, nor why the mind is restless or unsatisfied, till it 

has discovered to every event its antecedent or subsequent known as cause or effect. 

The resolution of the objective reality of this connection into 
"Why it fails to a mere subjective association of the two terms fails to satisfy 

satisfy the mind. . . . ., 

the mind, because it does not account tor what is believed. 
How the mind comes to think of the one when the other is observed or 
thought of, is a very different question from this, l how or by what rela- 
tion does the mind believe that the objects thus thought of together, are 
connected in fact ? ' It is a mere truism to say that objects observed or 
thought of together will be conjoined by association. That the mind is 
determined to think of the one by means of the other, is not the same 
thing as that the mind is determined to believe that the one is the cause 
of the other. 

It should be remembered, in justice to Hume, that his theory of causation is 
A special appli- only a special application of his general theory of knowledge — that belief or 
eeneraHheorv S knowledge °f every kind and in respect to all sorts of objects is only a vivid 

suggestion of am " idea " by an "impression" or another "idea." In the 
language of later philosophers it would be called an " inseparable association " of one with 
the other. That Hume should apply this general definition to the special case of causation is 
no more than was natural or consistent, cf. § 43. 

The Theory of Dr. Thomas Brown is closely assimilated with ■ 

The theory of J TT . J ' . \ ' 

Dr. Thomas the theory of Hume m certain features, though it is far 

Brown. J , . '..' ° 

removed from it in others. Brown agrees with Hume that 
the relation of cause and effect is nothing more than the constant and 
invariable connection of two objects in time, — the one as antecedent and 
the other as consequent. Brown differs from Hume in holding that two 
objects need only be conjoined in a single instance in order to be known 
as cause and effect respectively, while the theory of Hume requires that 
they must be frequently conjoined in order to be causally connected. 
Indeed the whole force and meaning of Hume's causal connection depends 
upon the tendency of the mind to think of those objects together which 
have been observed to be conjoined in fact. Brown contends that the 
only use of repeated observations is to enable the mind to analyze or 
separate complex objects into their ultimate elements ; for a single conjunc- 
tion of any two clearly distinguished objects gives their causal con- 
nection. Hume makes our conviction of the reality of this connection to 
consist in and depend upon the mind's tendency to associate objects cus- 
tomarily united. Brown resolves this conviction into cm original necessity 
or law of our nature. 



5*76 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §59J. 

" A cause, therefore, in the fullest definition which it philosophically admits, may he said to he, thai 
which immediately precedes any change, and which, existing at any time in similar circumstances, has beer, 
always and will be always, immediately followed by a similar change. Priority in the sequence observed, 
and invariableness of antecedence in the past and future sequences supposed, are the elements, and the 
only elements, combined in the notion of cause. By a conversion of terms, we obtain a definition of the 
correlative effect; and power, as I have before observed, is only another word for expressing abstractly 
and briefly the antecedence itself and the invariableness of the relation." — Inquiry into the Relation of 
Cause and Effect, Part I. sec. 1. Cf. Lectures, Lee. vii. 

The theory of both Hume and of Brown has in its essential 
johnstuart features been so entirely reproduced by J. S. Mill and so 

carefully elaborated in its application to the philosophy of 
Induction, that a consideration of it in its more fully developed form is 
required. Mill is the best representative as well as the ablest advocate 
of that philosophy which denies all original intuitions and necessary 
truths, and resolves our beliefs of this sort into inductions or inseparable 
associations, acquired or confirmed by often repeated experience. His 
views deserve a careful consideration by all those who would be thoroughly 
acquainted with the course of modern speculation. They are fully and 
fairly stated in his own language, in the following passages from his 
mi of Logic. 



" The law of causation, the recognition of which is the main pillar of inductive philosophy, is but the 
familiar truth, that invariability of succession is found by observation to obtain between every fact in 
nature and some other fact which has preceded it." * * "To certain facts, certain facts always do and 
as we believe always will succeed. The invariable antecedent is termed the cause ; the invariable conse- 
quent, the effect ; and the universality of the law of causation consists in this, that every consequent is 
connected in this manner with some particular antecedent, or set of antecedents. Let the fact be what it 
may, if it has begun to exist, it was preceded by some fact or facts, with which it is invariably connected." 
— B. III. c. v. § 2. 

"It is seldom, if ever, between a consequent and one single antecedent, that this invariable sequence 
subsists. It is usually between a consequent and the sum of several antecedents, the concurrence of all 
be'ng requisite to produce, that is, to be certain of being followed by, the consequent." — B. III. c. v. § 3. 

"As to the ulterior question, whether it is strictly necessary that the cause or assemblage of condi- 
tions should precede, by ever so short an instant, the production of the effect? — we think the inquiry an 
unimportant one. There certainly are cases in which the effect follows without any interval perceptible to 
our faculties ; and when there is an interval we cannot tell by how many intermediate links, imperceptible 
to us, that interval may really be filled up. But even granting that an effect may commence simultane- 
ously with its cause, the view I have taken of causation is in no way practically affected. Whether the 
cause and its effect be necessarily successive or not, causation is still the law of the succession of pheno- 
mena. Every thing which begins to exist must have a cause ; what does not begin to exist does not need 
a cause ; what causation has to account for is the origin of phenomena, and all the successions of pheno- 
mena must be resolved into causation. These are the axioms of our doctrine. If these be granted, wc 
can afford, though I see no necessity for doing so, to drop the words antecedent and consequent as applied 
to cause and effect. I have no objection to define a cause, the assemblage of phenomena, which occurring, 
some other phenomenon invariably commences or has its origin. Whether the effect coincides in point of 
time with, or immediately follows, the hindmost of its conditions, is immaterial. At all events it does not 
precede it ; and when we are in doubt, between two coexistent phenomena, which is cause and which effect, 
we rightly deem the question solved if we can ascertain which of them preceded the other." — B. III. 
c. v. § 6. 

u With respect to the general law of causation it does appear that there must have been a time when 
the universal prevalence of that law throughout nature could not have been affirmed in the same confident 
*nd unqualified manner as at present. There was a time when many of the phenomena of nature must 
have appeared altogether capricious and irregular, not governed by any laws, nor steadily consequent 
upon any causes." * * " The truth is, as M. Comte has well pointed out, that (although the generalizing 
propensity must have prompted mankind from almost the beginning of their experience to ascribe all 
events to some cause more or less mysterious) the conviction that phenomena have invariable laws, and 
follow with regularity certain antecedent phenomena, was only acquired gradually ; and extended itself 



§591. CAUSATION AND THE EELATION OF CAUSALITY. 577 

as knowledge advanced, from one order of phenomena to another, beginning with those whose laws are 
most accessible to observation." — B. III. c. xxi. § 3. 

" I apprehend that the considerations which give, at the present day, to the proof of the law of uni- 
formity of succession, as true of all phenomena without exception, this character of completeness and 
conclusiveness, are the following : First, that we now know it directly to be true of far the greater number 
of phenomena ; that there are none of which we know it not to be true, the utmost that can be said being 
that of some we cannot positively, from direct evidence, affirm its truth," etc., etc. " Besides this first 
class of considerations there is a second, which still further corroborates the conclusion, and from the re- 
cognition of which the complete establishment of the universal law may reasonably be dated. Although 
there are phenomena, the production and changes of which elude all our attempts to reduce them uni- 
versally to any ascertained law, yet in every such case, the phenomenon or the objects concerned in it, 
are found, in some instances, to obey the known laws of nature. The wind, for example, is the type of 
uncertainty and caprice, yet we find it in some cases obeying, with as much constancy as any phenomena 
in nature, the law of the tendency in fluids to distribute themselves so as to equalize the pressure on every 
side of each of their particles ; as in the case of the trade-winds and the monsoons." * * " When every 
phenomenon that we know sufficiently well to be able to answer the question, had a cause on which it was 
invariably consequent, it was more rational to suppose that our inability to assign the causes of other phe- 
nomena arose from our ignorance, than that there were phenomena which were uncaused, and which hap- 
pened accidentally to be exactly those which we had hitherto had no sufficient opportunity of studying. 
It must, at the same time, be remarked, that the reasons for this reliance do not hold in circumstances un- 
known to us, and beyond the possible range of our experience. In distant parts of the stellar regions, 
where the phenomena may be entirely unlike those with which we are acquainted, it would be folly to af- 
firm confidently that this general law prevails, any more than those special ones which we have found to 
hold universally on our own planet. The uniformity in the succession of events, otherwise called the law 
of causation, must be received not as a law of the universe, but of that portion of it only which is within 
the range of our means of sure observation, with a reasonable degree of extension to adjacent cases. To ex- 
tend it further is to make a supposition without evidence, and to which, in the absence of any ground from 
experience for estimating its degree of probability, it would be ridiculous to affect to assign it."— B. III. 
c. xxi. §§ 4, 5. 

summary of ^he doctrine contained in these extracts may be summed up 
if s 1 Elation ?!) m tne following propositions. Causation does not imply 
H h u m h e° ri an°d f production, dependence, efficiency or force, but simply uni- 
Brown. form succession or constant conjunction. All events or 

begun existences are or may be presumed to be invariably preceded by 
certain events, more or fewer, in a set or assemblage. Each one of these is 
as truly a cause as any other. 

The law or principle of causation, according to Mill, is the ascertained 
fact or general proposition that every event is preceded by or connected 
with some invariable combination or set of events. 

The conviction that this is the law of all events in the universe is de- 
nied by Mill to be an original or necessary intuition, but is asserted 
to be a generalized belief which is gradually acquired as the result of induc- 
tions applied more and more extensively in the observation of the facts of 
the universe. But induction is resolved by Mill into inseparable asso- 
ciation, so that in the last analysis or ultimate resolution of the ground of 
our belief in the principle of causation, Mill and Hume are one. Brown, on 
the other hand, contends that the conviction is original and necessary, or 
at least that there is an irresistible tendency in our nature towards such a 
belief. On the other hand, Brown resolves many of our apparently neces- 
sary beliefs into " inseparable," or more precisely, insuperable associations. 
So that Mill finds in the general drift and tendency of Brown's Philosophy 
37 



578 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §592. 

an authority for the prevailing spirit of his own views concerning intui- 
tive truths. 

Time relations § 5 ^2. Against tne views of Mill and others, we contend that 
attend, but do the relation of causation cannot be resolved into anv relations 

not constitute J 

the causal. f Time. Our reasons are these. It is conceded by Mill, that 

in some cases, no interval of antecedence or succession can be discerned 
between the cause and the effect. Under the pressure of this undeniable 
fact, he contends that though this is true, yet all those cases in which we 
have occasion to resort to the law of causation, are cases of begun exist- 
ence, in which the cause is obviously before the effect. He insists therefore 
that "practically " his view of the nature of causation cannot be contro- 
verted. This we grant, so far as to allow that in every instance in which 
we have occasion to discover a cause or predict an effect, the event is a 
begun existence. In other words, practically every caused existence is a 
begun existence, and every cause precedes its effect, and every effect 
follows its cause : or, which is the same thing, the relations before and 
after always attend the relation of causality. This is simply the truism 
that all events [i. e., all begun existences or phenomena] occur in time, or 
stated in another manner, that all things finite are subject to time-relations. 
To this should be added the consideration that if there be any higher rela- 
tions, such as those of cause and design, these must be expressed in language 
taken from space, and in turn involve the recognition of Time- 
relations. But it is one thing to assert, which is all that Mill does in this 
passage, that we can determine causes and effects by means of their con- 
stantly attending relations of time, and quite another to show that the two 
relations are identical. 

That they are not identical is proved by the fact that without the assumption 
T i m o-relations f the relation of causation as distinct and logical, deduction would be impos- 
doduction! sible. This has been shown in the analysis of deduction already given. In- 

duction also would be unmeaning. It is idle to contend that the force of the 
reasons and laws by which we explain and predict events is exhausted by resolving them into 
uniform antecedences, and successions in time. This has been already shown under Induction. 
It will be more conclusively proved when we consider in its place the explanation of Induction 
given by Mill in his own theory of the nature of the causal relation, § 593. This explanation 
not only fails to satisfy the mind in respect to induction but it reacts against the underlying 
or assumed construction of the causal relation. But aside from these considerations, we con- 
tend that the very statement of the proposition is its own sufficient refutation. The human 
mind clearly distinguishes the relations of time from the relations of causality and of produc- 
tion. The intelligent and universal use of the whole vocabulary of terms appropriate to each 
of these classes of relations is but the constant attestation that this distinction is made univer- 
sally and necessarily by the mind ; in other words, that causation cannot be resolved into any 
relation of time. 

We have already argued that causation is not only an original relation, 
discerned by intuition, but that it is also known by intuition to be uni- 
versally applicable to all events. 



§593. 



CAUSATION" AND THE KELATION OF CAUSALITY. 



57S 



Seven theories 
counter to our 
own. 



This opinion, as we have seen, is disputed by many. Various 
counter theories have been devised to account for its univ'er 
sal or its very general application. Seven such theories are 
clearly distinguishable, making eight in all — including our own. They 
are ingeniously arranged and tabulated by Hamilton. Met. Lee. 39. The 
table is more ingenious than sound in its classified subdivisions, as will be 
apparent from the remarks which we make upon some of its heads; bin 
it may be used as a guide in our discussion. 

" A Tabular Yiew of the Theories in regard to the Principles of Causality. 

1. Objectivo-Objective and Objectivo-Sub- 
jective. — Perception of Causal Efficien- 
cy, external and internal. 

2. Objectivo-Subjective Perception of Causal 
Efficiency, internal. 

3. Objective. — Induction, Generalization. 

4. Subjective. — Association, Custom, Habit. 

5. Necessary : A special Principle of Intel- 
ligence. 

6. Contingent: Expectation of the Con- 
stancy of Nature. 

Y l. From the Law of Contradiction, i. e. y 
(Non-Contradiction.) 

y 8. Prom the Law of the Conditioned." 
,i , „;•„„ in ^ § 593. The theories which we shall first consider are the third 

Causation inex- ° 

piicabie by in- an( j fourth of Hamilton's Table, according to which, our 

duction or asso- < ' * ' 

ciation. belief in the Principle of Causality is acquired by Induction 

like other generalizations, or is the result of Association. These, as we 
have seen, are the theories respectively of Mill and Hume, or rather they 
are by Mill blended into one. 
The advocates Neither of these theories is sufficient to explain this belief. 

overlook tae real __,- . . ., „ . „ ., 

question. This is evident tor the following reasons. 

(1 .) Its advocates overlook the real question at issue. The belief to be 
explained or accounted for, is, that every event has a cause. The belief 
which the advocates of this theory seek to account for, is the belief that 
to each particular event or class of events, some definite cause has been or 
may be actually assigned. That this last only, can be the product of ex- 
perience is obvious. That this is the belief in support of which they 
adduce illustrations and arguments is evident from the passages which we 
have quoted from Hume and Mill. That this is not the belief which ig 
in question, needs no illustration or argument- 





A. 


a. 
Original 

or 
Primitive. 




& posteriori. 


b. 


Judgment 
of 




Derivative J 

or • ] 

^ Secondary. 1 


Causality, 
as, 


d priori. 


r c 

Original 

or 
Primitive. 

d. 
Derivative 
or 
. Secondary. 



580 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §593 : 

(2.). No simple experience of actual events can establish the 

Experience can- v/ . *- * 

not go beyond application or its results any further than the range of actual 

its own limits. /» 7 . * ■» 777. . -r?. 

events oj which we have had this experience. But in both 
Generalization and Induction, we go far beyond our actual experience. 
When from the observation of a few objects or a few events, we general- 
ize a concept or a law which we apply to objects or events more or less 
like them, we use the belief that what we have observed will prove true 
of what we have not observed. Whether what we have observed are 
called simple uniformities of antecedence and succession, or uniformities 
of causation, makes no difference with the nature of the act by which we 
pass from the known to the unknown. 

Mill himself most pertinently observes : " We believe that fire will burn to-morrow be- 
cause it burned to-day and yesterday ; but we believe precisely on the same grounds that ii 
burned before we were born, and that it burns this very day in Cochin-China. It is not from 
the past to the future [only or as such] as past or future, that we infer, but from the known 
to the unknown ; from facts observed to facts unobserved ; from what we have perceived, or 
been directly conscious of, to what has not come within our experience." 

He also admits, in the passages already quoted, that we do not limit ourselves to experience. 
In asking why, when we cannot assign a definite cause for an event, we yet believe it to be 
caused, he says it is " more rational to suppose that our inability to assign the causes of 
other phenomena arose from our ignorance than that these were phenomena which were un- 
caused." While then he insists that we have no warrant from experience in applying the results 
of experience " to circumstances unknown to us and beyond the possible range of our expe- 
rience," and contends that " the law of causation must be received not as a law of the universe, 
but of that portion of it only which is within the range of our means of observation," he 
is careful to subjoin " with a reasonable degree of extension to adjacent cases.'''' It would be 
difficult to give a meaning to the phrases " it is more rational to suppose" and "with a reason- 
able extension to adjacent cases " without finding in them a real, though unwilling, homage to 
the intuition " Every event must be caused." 

induction as- (3.) Induction assumes this belief as already present to, or 
quket the bciS ready to be applied by the mind. Mill concedes that Indue- 
to be original. tion itgelf has itg ax i onm He says, " whatever be the best 

way of expressing it, the proposition that the course of nature is uniform, 
is the fundamental principle, or general axiom of Induction." The Propo- 
sition that ■ the course of nature is uniform ' must mean that the unknown 
uniformities of succession or causation correspond to those which are 
known. If this is a general axiom or fundamental principle of Induc- 
tion, it would seem that it cannot be gained or derived by means of 
Induction. And yet Mill contends that the axiom which is necessarily 
assumed to give meaning and reality to the process of Induction is acquired 
by means of the process to which it is a necessary pre-condition. 

(4.) The resolution of this belief into tenacious or inseparable 

Much less ex- ' rT , , ,, •. ► . 

piicnbie by a B so- associations, or as Hume more bluntly expresses it, into 
" custom or habit " is more palpably untenable than the other 
theory or form of this theory. 



I 



§594. CAUSATION AND THE RELATION OF CAUSALITY. 581 

We have seen already that the fact that the mind is constantly deter- 
mined to one thought by the presence of another, is very different from 
the fact that the things thought of, are necessarily determined the one by 
the other. If the two are viewed simply as psychological experiences, even 
the subjective law by which the objects concerned are presented to the 
mind in constant conjunction, is clearly different from the subjective 
belief that the objects so presented, are united causally. 

The philosopher who directly, like Hume, or indirectly like Mill, resolves the principle of 
causality into the law of association, complicates rather than simplifies the problem. For he 
imposes upon himself the obligation to show that the objective world without corresponds to 
the subjective world within. This must be done by deduction, induction or intuition, but deduc- 
tion and induction both rest upon intuition, so that even the theory which attempts to dispense 
with intuition must in the final analysis rest upon it, in one form or another, as its ultimate 
arbiter. 

Hot resolvable § 594. The two other theories which resolve the principle 
inner ^experi- of causality into the observations of experience, ascribe it to 
LockJsvLw? 1 * our sense-perceptions of the phenomena of matter, and to our 
conscious experience of the phenomena of the soul. Some writers, again, 
hold to both of these conjointly as sources of the belief. 

Locke seems to advocate, in different passages of his Essay, every one 
of these theories. The following passages may be fairly taken to repre- 
sent each of the three : 

" In the notice that our senses take of the constant vicissitude of things, we cannot but observe that 
several particulars, both qualities and substances, begin to exist ; and that they receive this their existence 
from the due application and operation of some other being. From this observation we get our ideas of 
3ause and effect. That which produces any simple or complex idea, we denote by the general name, cause, 
and that which is produced, effect. Thus finding in that substance which we call wax, fluidity, which is a 
simple idea that was not in it before, is constantly produced by the application of a certain degree of heat, 
we call the simple idea of heat in relation to fluidity in wax, the cause of it, and fluidity, the effect." — 
Essay, B. II. c. xxvi. § 1. 

" A body at rest affords us no idea of any active power to move ; before it is set in motion itself, that 
motion is rather a passion than an action in it. Tor when the ball obeys the stroke of a billiard-stick, it 
is not any action of the ball, but bare passion." 

" The idea of the beginning of motion, we have only from reflection on what passes in ourselves, 
where we find by experience, that barely by willing it, barely a thought of the mind, we can move the 
parts of our bodies which were before at rest. So that it seems to me, we have from the observation of 
the operation of bodies by our senses, but a very imperfect, obscure idea of active power, since they afford 
not any idea in themselves of the power to begin any action, either motion or thought. But if from the 
impulse bodies are observed to make one upon another, any one thinks he has a clear idea of power, it 
serves as well to my purpose, Sensation being one of those ways whereby the mind comes by its ideas ; 
only I thought it worth while to consider here by the way, whether the mind doth not receive its idea ot 
active power clearer from reflection on its own operations, than it does from any external sensation." — B. 
II. c. xxi. § 4. 

The theory in ^ocke' 13 view has been understood to be, that by simple obser- 
untenabie f " rms va ^ on an ^ experience of material or spiritual events, we know 
that they are connected as causes and effects, and that on the 
ground of the experience thus given in sense and consciousness, we believe, 
conclude or infer that all events are so connected. To the theory as thus 
interpreted the reply is decisive; First, that simple experience of the 
known can of itself furnish no warrant for a belief concerning the un 



582 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §595. 

known, unless we apply or assume some a priori principle or original 
intuition : Second, Sense-perception and consciousness are usually sc 
defined as to exclude the discernment of any relation except the relations 
of space and time, or the connection of the objects appropriate to each by 
any relations other than these. But the relations of space and time are 
a priori, and are discerned by intuition. If the relation of causation is 
discerned in each of these classes of acts, it is none the less a priori for 
that reason, so that it cannot be urged that sense and consciousness as 
forms or acts of simple experience, are the source or sources of our belief 
of causation. The knowledge must be a priori, and cannot be a posteriori. 

Relations of the ^ e opinions of Locke are of great interest and importance in that they gave 
doctrines of the occasion or authority for the speculations of Hume and Mill. Hume 
of Hume a nd ta ^ es U P the positions of Locke in detail, and considers them at length. He 
Ml11 - denies that in Sense-Perception, we can by sense be said to perceive the 

causation of material objects or phenomena. All that we perceive, he urges, are one material 
object or state followed by another, using precisely the same arguments against this view of 
Locke which Locke uses against himself, when he would show that matter gives no clear idea 
of power. Malebranche uses the same argument and even the illustration by billiard-balls. 
This argument is decisive, as we have already observed. 

The opinion of Locke, as expressed in these and other similar passages, is interesting 
■with n S Locke's for *' tie reason tlla * ^ is strikingly and happily inconsistent with his definition of knowl- 
doctrine of edge as the discernment of the agreement or disagreement of our ideas. The con- 
knowledge, sciousness of the exercise of power in mental phenomena is certainly a species of 

knowledge, hut it would not he maintained that the cause, i. e., the acting ego, and the 
effect, viz., the hodily or psychical state were known under the relation of the simple agreement of their ideas. 

Against the special opinion of Locke that we derive the notion of causation from our 
Hume's obiec- internal experience, Hume contends, that all which we ohserve is one thought succeeding 
tion to the doc- another thought, one emotion following another, one so-called purpose springing up after 
trine of Locke. another ; hut we have no knowledge of any causation or production in such cases, nor 

of any producing agent. The motions of the hody which are ascribed to an effort or 
purpose of which we are said to he conscious, he disposes of by asserting that all we know is — first, that 
we experience a wish or purpose, and next that this is followed by a bodily movement. In phenomena that 
are purely mental, where the so-called effect is a purely spiritual phenomenon, the same is true ; we find a 
wish, or purpose, or effort, and it is followed by the desired or purposed mental state. We are simply specta- 
tors, but in no case producers or originators, of these psychical or psycho-corporeal phenomena. Both Brown 
and Mill dispose of Locke's representations in substantially the same manner. 1 he convenience of these 
views as furnishing materials for the refutation of the arguments for the freedom of human volitions derived 
from the consciousness of the exercise of the power or freedom of choice, must be obvious to every one. 
If in consciousness we are only aware of the presence of psychical states, and cannot know their relations 
to one another or to the agent which originates them, then it is impossible that we can be conscious of any 
exercise of the power of choice, for if it be insisted that we are only conscious of the act of choosing as 
preceding the effect— viz., the state of choice or the purpose, we should only know it as one event preceding 
another, i. e., we should only know the two events as before and after. 

. „ 8 595. The question thus discussed between Locke and 

Theories of Boy- *L ^ . , . 

er coiiard and Hume has been invested with a special interest by the specu- 
lations of Royer Collard and Maine de Biran, two distin- 
guished philosophers of the modern French school. 

Royer Collard, Fragmens deLeqons (CEuvres de T. Beid, T. iv. p. 296), 
contends that our experience of psychical phenomena gives us direct 
knowledge of the causal relation, inasmuch as mental states are, by their 



§595. CAUSATION AND THE EELATION OF CAUSALITY. 585 

very nature, known to be caused by the ego. We know by consciousness 
that we are causes, and these are the only causes which we do know. We 
know that every event is caused, as a self-evident and intuitive truth. 

Maine de Biran, CEuvres, T. iv., expands this general statement into a 
refined theory which he explains with great subtlety, and defends with 
equal boldness. Taking his cue from Leibnitz, who contends that we 
have a direct appreciation of the ego, and that every monad both material 
xnd spiritual is conceived and believed to be an individual force ; appeal- 
ng also to the well-known doctrine of Descartes, that the ego knows that 
it exists because it knows itself to think, or, more exactly, because it 
finds itself in the act of thinking ; he proceeds to assert and defend the 
following propositions : 

The soul, in all its higher states and elements of states, is not recep- 
tive but active. As active, it is the originator or producer of effects. 
These effects are of two sorts : those which are purely psychical, and those 
which are external as they affect the body and originate motion. In these 
last even, we distinguish between the element which is purely organic — 
whether sensitive and receptive on the one hand, or impulsive and reflex 
on the other, i. e. so far as they are purely corporeal and the object of physio- 
logical research, — and the element which is psychological and apprehended 
by consciousness. In those states which are purely psychical, and in the 
other states so far as they are such, consciousness distinguishes between 
the ego, the ego in action, and the result of the acting of the ego. These 
elements are not distinguished as following one another in time, but as sepa- 
rate in thought, even when united in an act or state that endures but for 
an instant. But here he is careful to observe, 

(a.) The ego, discerned or apperceived, is not the soul as a substance, for 
thig is a generalized conception, and includes the relations of the soul to 
the body, as well as its various capacities or faculties for the various modes 
of psychical action. All that is apperceived is the individual ego. 

(b.) The ego thus apperceived is known not as out of action, nor as 
prepared for action, but as acting, as therefore related to or connected 
with an action — this being an individual act however, and in no sense one 
that is generic ; every thing that is known directly to consciousness proper 
being individual. 

(c.) This action is also causal or productive action. In its very nature 
and essence it is known as passing into effects. These effects are by apper 
ception distinguished from the agent and the action, not in time but in 
fact. 

These positions comprise the answer given by de Biran to the question, 
Whence and how does the soul gain its notion of causation ? 

But the inquiry which is invested with still greater interest and impor- 
tance, concerns the principle of causality. It being granted or assumed 
that the soul derives its knowledge of causation from the direct knowledge 



584 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 596. 

of itself as an individual cause ; How does it know that every event has a 
cause ? 

To this question de Biran would reply : On occasion of the individual 
apperception described, we extend the causative relations to objects other 
than ourselves, by a principle of natural induction or analogy. 

" The necessity, invariableness and unity of the personal primitive cause being thus conceived, every 
inference or derivation from this primitive fact must necessarily partake of the same characteristics. Eor 
example, every effect of the locomotion of one's own body being inseparable, so far as I am concerned, 
from the feeling or (external?) apperception of myself as its cause, no external movement [of any kind} 
can possibly occur without being immediately conceived as like my own [a l'instar du moi]. This first in- 
duction, which transfers the causality of the ego to the non-ego, has no relation to those judgments of 
analogy which are founded on resemblances in external experience. For this reason it is with regret and 
for lack of a better term, that I employ in this novel sense the term Induction, which in logic and in 
physics has a meaning entirely different. However it may arise, the certainty that every external mo- 
tion, every passive modification of our sensibility, every fortuitous event whatever, not produced by our 
personal will, could not begin without a cause, this certainty is as infallible and as necessary as that of onr 
own causality from which it is derived. 

" Causality or force, thus conceived separately from myself, and de-subjectivized, cannot be understood 
except as universal and absolute, like being, permanent substances, etc., and the other fundamental notions 
of which the understanding cannot divest itself, and which must be regarded as its inherent forms. It is 
a very false and very limited philosophy which sees in these notions, and in causality which is the mother 
of them, only simple signs, or artificial ideas, higher genera, products of sensation, deductions of reason- 
ing," etc., etc.— (Euvres, T. IV. pp. 393, 4. 

Such is the theory of de Biran in respect to the second point of inquiry, 
viz., the origin of the belief that every event is caused. It may be stated 
in a single proposition, viz., we believe all events external to our own 
experience to be caused, because we conceive of all such events by natural 
induction, after the likeness or analogy of that spiritual causation of which 
we are directly cognizant in ourselves. 

is the theory § 596. In respect to both these points we ask, How far is 
l'd? we gain the theory of de Biran correct ? 

^we^fron^con- !• ^° we g am ouv m ' st knowledge of causation from .the 

sciousness? experience of our personal causality? We answer, Yes. 
The soul cannot act without distinguishing the ego from its acts and their 
products. It knows itself to be the actor or originator of its active states. 
In this conscious exercise of its own active energy, it has its first knowledge 
and individual exemplification of the causal energy in general. It has 
a direct knowledge of the terms or objects concerned, viz. the agent and the 
result. It has experience of effort or action in varying degrees. It has 
also experience of the feeling of pleasure or pain which attends the efforts 
in question. Its belief of the acting of other causes external to itself, 
whether of spirit upon matter, of matter upon spirit, or of matter upon 
matter, is in contrast with this knowledge, incomplete in respect both to 
the terms or objects concerned, and their relations to one another. 
2 Do we make 2 - ^° we > ^y natural induction, make a universal application 
natSai^nduc- °^ our individual experience to every possible event ? The 
tion? so-called natural induction of de Biran must rest upon or 

involve an intuition, equivalent to the d priori principle, every event must 



§ 597. CAUSATION AND THE RELATION OF CAUSALITF. 585 

have a cause. Otherwise it is impossible to see what warrant we have tc 
transfer what is true of an individual experience to the whole spiritual 
and material universe. The fact that psychologically, we have the earliest 
and most complete knowledge of the causal relation in our spiritual ex- 
perience, does not in the least explain philosophically \ w T hy it is that we 
believe this relation to be of universal application. 

De Biran is very earnest in the effort to show that this Natural Induction does not 
De Biran's view suppose that the mind is furnished with primitive beliefs or a priori truths <T. iv. 388- 
of first princi- 398). He concedes, indeed, that the mind mast have such principles in order that it 
P* es ' may reason and judge, but he insists that it does not set off in its processes with these 

principles already formed, but that an important point is gained when psychology fur- 
nishes a starting-point in the actual experience of the soul, from or by which the soul may effect a transi- 
tion from individual and concrete facts to universal principles. These principles are not gained in the 
way of ordinary abstraction nor are they generalized notions of the qualities of objects, but they express 
the sameness of a relation wherever it is realized. 

But these reasonings hold only against the extravagant views of First Truths which we have so fully 
discussed § 528. They prove only that tbe principle of causality is not first apprehended in the abstract 
but exemplified in the concrete, and that this concrete is given in the psychical experience of each indi- 
vidual. The extension of this to every event as the occasion arises, must involve the application of what, 
when it is generalized and reflected on, is known to be a universal principle. This process of extension, 
called by him a Natural Induction, must involve such an Intuition. 

~. -. S 597. In insisting that we conceive of external events as caused, after the 

We image our ° ° ' 

concepts of caus- analogy of our personal causality, d Vinstar du moi, he has reference to the 

scious experi- source from which we derive our images of the causal relation. As every 

ence - general term of quality, like red, yellow, etc., is illustrated or exemplified to 

the mind by some concrete instance or image of its use (§ 424), so is it with the more general 

and more evanescent terms of relation. The law holds more eminently in the latter case. 

If we cannot use the words purple, yellow, lovely, fearful, of an object absent from our direct 

inspection, without referring to some concrete example, much less can we apply the terms of 

causality to objects of which our knowledge is indirect and incomplete, without referring to 

some concrete example from that knowledge which is most distinct, viz., which is famished 

from our own souls. The a Vinstar du moi of De Biran refers to the illustration, the imaging 

the abstract and the general, but does not explain at all the process by which the intuition 

is gained, or the authority on which it rests. 

There are still other reasons why the activity which we individually exercise should be 
made the type and image of that causality which we generalize of the universe of matter and 
of mind. One of the most frequent cases of the exercise of the causal energy is in the 
management and control of our bodies by means of bodily or muscular force. In the simple 
tension of muscular fibre, there is often the sense of resistance. The muscular feeling is the 
same, whether the soul acts upon the muscles, or whether there is a counter force exerted by 
another being like ourselves, or whether the muscles encounter some one of the forces of 
nature. The conception of force or effort, in all these cases, takes its image or illustration in 
part from this fact of muscular tension that is common to the three classes of supposed origi- 
nation — iny own spirit, the spirit of another, and an agency purely material. But the only 
case in which it is most fully and vividly experienced is that of effort originating with myself. 

This analysis of de Biran's theory enables us to explain the phenomenon to 
of^chudren'and wn i cn ne attaches great importance, viz., that children, and certain savage 
savages explain- races, believe every event to be caused by a spiritual force, and regard every 
existing thing at first as a living person. The fact may or may not be as 
universal as he contends it is. He uses it in support of the two positions which we have 
explained and discussed. 

The fact, if it be true, is equally consistent with the construction which we have given tc 



586 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 598. 

these positions. On the supposition that we believe by intuition that every event is caused, 
it would still be true that all external causes might be imaged after the example or illustration 
of the spiritual causation which we consciously exercise. Nothing would be more natural 
than that the non-essential as well as the essential elements furnished by our experience, 
should enter into the picture, and that our first and unreflecting belief should be that every 
thing which manifested force was, like ourselves, a living person. The illusion would remain 
with those whose intellects are controlled by imagination rather than by reason, and would 
return with a force almost insuperable on every occasion when the imagination was excited 
by emotion. The child, the savage, and even the civilized man, when maddened by passion, 
vent their rage against the stone that bruises or the weapon that wounds them, as though they 
were alive. By a gradual experience, the uninstructed child is forced to distinguish between 
persons and things. It might require a long time for an unreflecting and passionate com- 
munity to rise above such illusions of the imagination, when stimulated by the excitement 
of passion or superstition. In a cultivated community, the child soon learns to accept the judg- 
ment of others, as it is forced upon him by the distinctions of a mature language embodying 
the results of the observations and inductions of many generations. A savage tribe must feel 
out its way for itself without such aid, and is in constant danger of relapsing into fetichism 
and superstition in respect to some single material objects, after it has learned in part to dis- 
tinguish between persons and things. 

It, however, by no means follows that the intuition, ' every event is caused,' is equivalent 
to the proposition, or involves the belief in the first instance, ' that every event is originated 
by a personal cause.' Origination under conditions or the application of force as the necessary 
means of explaining the existence of every being and the occurrence of every event, is 
the general fact which this intuition, and which the principle of causality which expresses it, 
declares. The distinction between spiritual and material causes is learned by experience, as it 
is instructed by appropriate evidence. 

inferences from 8 598. From the fact assumed or believed that the soul 

the theory that ° .»„.-.•". 

causation per- derives its first notion of cause from its conscious activity, 
spirit. the inference has been derived that causation is predicable 

of spirit only ; that a material cause is contradictory in conception and im- 
possible in fact. This inference has been held in two forms. 

(1.) It has been inferred, first, that the conception of a 

Material causes .,„ -.. , « * , 

called seif-con- material cause is sen-contradictory ; because, forsooth, our 
knowledge. of the causal relation is derived from our own 
psychical activity. Spirit alone, it is contended, is essentially active and 
causal, and in spirit, will is that only which is active. Matter is incapable of 
force ; it presents the appearances of antecedent and successive phenomena, 
but behind these appearances there is no force except what spirit imparts. 

" The word action itself has no real significance except when applied to the doings of an intelligent 
agent ; we cannot speak of the doings of matter as we could if the word action were applicable to it in any 
other than a figurative sense. Let any one conceive, if he can, of any power, energy, or force, inherent in 
a lump of matter— a stone, for instance— except this merely negative one, that it always and necessarily 
remains in its present state, whether this he of rest or motion. * * * We attribute force or -power to the 
particles of matter and speak of their natural agencies. Just so we talk of tone in coloring, and of a heavy 
or light sound; though, of course, in their proper significance, tone belongs only to sound, and heaviness 
to gravitating bodies. These modes of speech are proper enough if their figurative character is kept in 
view ; but we ought always to remember, that agency is the employment of one intelligent being to act 
for another ; force and power are applicable only to will ; they are characteristic of volition." 

* * * « This doctrine places the material universe before us in a new light. The whole framework 
of what are called ' secondary causes ' falls to pieces. The laws of nature are only a figure of speech. The 



§599. CAUSATION AND THE RELATION OF CAUSALITY. 58 4 

powers and active inherent properties of material atoms are mere fictions." — Prof. Francis Bowen, Lowed 
Lectures, First Course, Lee. ir. Cf. Berkeley, Siris. § 154. 

§ 599. Against this view the following objections are deci 
Sdocfrine. to s ^ ve : ( a -) ^he soul finds in its own positive psychical experi- 
ence evidence that " force and power are " not " applicable 
only to will ; " for it finds spiritual energies that are neither intelligent nor 
voluntary. When it seeks and strives to fix its attention, to recall for- 
gotten objects, to control its rebellious desires, it contends against actual 
forces which are not directly regulated by intelligence or controlled by the 
will. There are ' secondary causes ' in the soul at least, if there are not in 
matter. 

(b.) It does not follow, because we derive the notion of causation or 
force from the conscious activities of an intelligent will, that the relation 
itself involves either intelligence or will. Let it be conceded that at first 
the soul, by a not unnatural illusion, refers every event which it does not 
produce by its own activity to some spiritual agent other than itself. It 
soOn learns to correct its judgments. It learns that a spirit does not 
directly blow upon the trees or agitate the sea, for it finds the agitation 
of the air interposed; it then discovers that this agitation is occasioned 
by heat ; then that heat is dependent upon the sun, or some other agent. 

In other words, between the effect and the activity of spirit, it interposes many so-called 
beings and their actions. What are these agents or phenomena ? They are not the thoughts 
nor the feelings, nor the purposes of another mind. They are not the products of our own 
causality in thinking, feeling, or willing. They are either the causes of the sensations, or the 
occasions of the sense-perceptions which we experience. In other words, they are possessed 
of force and endowed with causal efficiency without either intelligence or will. 

What, again, is that which we call the body, that animated something which 
Would make the the soul directs, which resists its energy, and the affections of which cause the 
bodyunpossible. soul connected with it to suffer ? Shall we say that all these are God, acting 

in various ways? Then the universe, separately from created spirits, is 
nothing but God ; which approaches the view of Spinoza. Shall we say that these all are the 
means or media of the acting of God ? But if they are media or means, they themselves are 
are not the same with God's acting. What are they ? What has God made them to be in 
order that through them as means, He may act ? What is that in the created spirit, in 
addition to its capacities for intelligence and will, which acts or seems to act independently 
of knowledge and volition ? These questions involve the objection that, 

(c.) According to this theory, the universe of matter and of spirit, 
except so far as it is capable of intelligence, is unreal and impossible. Matter 
without qualities or powers, is inconceivable. Qualities and powers in- 
volve force, i. e., causal energy. The exercise of power is also inconceiv- 
able, except by beings capable of voluntary energy. 

For these reasons we reject the theory. We distinguish intelligent and 
voluntary activity from simple causal energy. We distinguish causal 
from creative force, i. e., origination under conditions furnished by another 



588 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §601 

being from origination without such conditions. We distinguish a first 
from secondary causes. 

it has been in- § 600. (2.) The second inference derived from the position 
ffbut onfaS tnat tDe activity of spirit furnishes the notion of causation, is, 

in the universe. ^ ^^ > g ^ Qne agent fa the universe, an( J JJ e J g ^ 

Creator; that causation is conceivable of neither created matter nor 
created spirit, and the apparent activities of both are held to be varied 
manifestations of His single force, in phenomena successive to one another. 
If this doctrine were true, it could not be legitimately derived from the 
grounds alleged, inasmuch as the notion of causality is furnished from a 
created or finite cause, and is inferred to be inapplicable to any other than 
a cause which is infinite and uncreated. 

Malebranche (Recli. de la Ver., 1. 6, p. 2, c. 3.) advocates the theory in question, but not on these 
grounds, but as an inference from his general theological and philosophical position, that God is the only 
agent, and that in hiin we perceive as well as produce every object in the universe. 

8 601. We proceed to consider, next, the several theories 

The theory c . ' 

which resolves that the principle of causality is a priori. — (Table. 5, 6, 7, 8.) 

causality into a _. f, f y *\ * * , • \ -, ,, 

relation of con- One class (the seventh) or these theories comprehends all 

those which resolve this relation between things into some 
more general relation between concepts — in other words, into some logical 
axiom, principle, or relation. The fallacy of them all consists in invert- 
ing the order of nature and of reason. A correct estimate of logical 
relations and principles will show that they are all dependent upon some 
assumed reality of things. Of such realities, the relation of causality is 
prominent and fundamental. 

Hamilton {Met. Lee. 39) asserts that Wolf, Clarke, Locke, Hobbes, and 
Resolved into others, have attempted to demonstrate the law of causality by the principle 
contradiction. of contradiction. He refers particularly to such an argument by "Wolf 

(Oniologia, §§ 65-70), a part of which he quotes and repeats. The argument, 
as he cites it, is as follows : " Whatever is produced without a cause, is produced by nothing ; 
in other words, has nothing for its cause. But nothing can no more be a cause than it can 
be something. The same intuition that makes us aware that nothing is not something, shows 
us that every thing must have a real cause of its existence." It may be doubted, from the 
very terms in which Hamilton cites the argument, whether Wolf intended to demonstrate the 
law of causation by way of logical inference. So far from attempting to show that its truth 
can be demonstrated or logically derived, he aims to prove that it cannot be derived at all, but 
that it is an original principle or axiom of thought, and, as such, is coordinate and equally 
original with the principle of contradiction ; cf. § 15. What is said to be a logical argument, 
is, in fact, only a reduction similar to those which are employed by many philosophers, when 
they argue that a principle must be accepted as a first truth, by drawing out the absurd 
consequences, either speculative or practical, which would follow from the denial or non- 
acceptance of it as such. 

It has not been uncommon with the philosophers of the later German Schools to seek 
Its relation to ^ re solve the principle of causality into the principle of the sufficient reason viewed as 
the^ Sufficient a lo ical principle. This follows from not clearly determining and carefully keeping 
Reason. in mind the relation of the ratio essendi to the ratio cognoscendi. Instead of deriving 

the second from tbe first, they have derived the first from the second. Because th* 



§ 602. CAUSATION AND THE RELATION OP CAUSALITY. 589 

logical reason is more general or extensive in its application than the real cause, they have resolved canst 
into reason, instead of explaining reason by means of the relation of cause. We have already shown, un- 
der Deduction, that the syllogistic process, and indeed all logical reasoning supposes the ratio essendi, i.e., 
real causal action or that which may be conceived as such, and that without this all deduction is meaning- 
less and inconclusive. § 446. 

This inversion of the real order of the dependence of these conceptions may be traced 
Influence of the *° ^ant. He at least sanctioned it by the suggestion that is fundamental to his system, 
Kantian doc- that the forms of thought are not necessarily representative of the forms of being, 
trine. Kant makes the relation of causality to be in its essence a metaphysical relation of 

the explicability of one thought by another which is required by the understanding or 
logical faculty. The understanding must explain one thought as dependent on another : This relation 
of dependence, when applied to things existing in the actual world, can only be conceived by means of 
the relations of phenomena to one another in time : The phenomenon that succeeds another uniformly ia 
explained to the understanding by that which precedes it. 

It has been carried to its furthest extreme by Hegel in the fundamental position of his 
Carried to its philosophy which he boldly attempted to apply to every conception, that all the so-called 
extreme by He- relations of being may be developed from and are resolved into relations of thought, 
8 e l- so that the actual world is but the necessary evolution of the relations that belong to 

the concept as such. The relation of the reason to its consequent, and by consequence 
of cause to effect, is only a special application of that law of identity, as interpreted by his logic, which con- 
trols and reappears continually in all abstract thought. According to this law, every thing as thought or 
conceived, is thought or conceived by means of its relation to something not itself— when completely 
conceived, by its relation to every thing other than itself. As conceived it must therefore depend entirely 
upon this other. "What any thing depends upon, that it may be conceived, is its ground or reason. The 
relation of dependence, of reason, of causation, is therefore involved in that of identity. In the act of 
conceiving an object to be what it is, is involved its dependence upon another object in the relation of its 
ground, reason, or cause. 

It is true, in a certain sense, that the objects related make up or constitute the concept 
of which they are said to be the constituents. If the elements a and b and c constitute 
Ms reasoning an ^ " nrnole -^ ( aa cer t arn - properties constitute chalk,) then they are the grounds, or 
reason, or cause of A, as a concept ; but this relation of dependence by which the con- 
cept is thought, differs greatly from the relation of production by which the thing is 
originated. The one cannot be resolved into the other. 

The dependence in the one case is that of consistency in thinking. In this case the causality is made 
by the active mind that originally thought these elements together in a single concept, according to the 
objective relations which it discerns between the objects thought. But the causality with whicn we are 
concerned is a causality between things, which is distinguished from and superadded to these so-called 
logical relations. 

When I compare twenty objects with each other and conceive one as diverse from the other nineteen, 
these nineteen are necessary to, and the grounds of the concept of, this one as thought to be different from 
the rest. If five are alike in form or color, the four must be thought of that the likeness of the fifth to 
the four may be conceived. These five are the reasons, or causes, or conditions, of this likeness as dis- 
cerned. Heat applied to water causes steam. Steam cannot be thought of except as heat and water enter 
into the concept, but the belief of the production of actual steam by its actual constituents, implies another 
relation, than that of mere thought. "We form many concepts by means of the relation of causality, it is 
true, but not every element that is constituent of a concept is causal in the relation of things. 

§ 602. The eighth theory called a priori, is the theory ad- 
Sy^caSsatlom vanced by Sir William Hamilton, Met. Lee, 39, 40. This 

theory derives our conceptions of, and our belief in, the rela- 
tion, not from a power, but an impotence of mind ; in a word, it resolves it 
into the more general "principle of the conditioned" The laic of the con- 
ditioned is, that " the conceivable has always two opposite extremes, and 
that the extremes are equally inconceivable. That the conditioned is to be 
viewed not as a power, but as a powerlessness of mind is evinced by this 
— that the two extremes are contradictories, though neither alternative 
can be conceived or thought as possible, one or other must be admitted tc 
be necessary." 



590 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §603. 

This general powerlessness gives the special relation of causality, when applied to the two 
positive forms under which every object is and must be conceived, viz., existence and time. 
By the necessity of the first, the mind cannot but think of every object as existing. It 
cannot, if it tries, think of any thing as not existing. By the second, the thing existing is not 
now what it was a moment before. We cannot think of any object as non-existing in the 
present. No more can we think of the same as non-existent in the past. "We cannot think 
of its absolute commencement in the past, nor can we think of its absolute termination in the 
future. Nor can we think of its absolute non-commencement, nor of its infinite non-termina- 
tion. " This gives us the category of the conditioned as applied to the category of existence 
under the category of time." 

By this application of the principle of the conditioned, the principle of causality is gained. 
For the law of causality is simply this, that when an object appears to- commence in time, we 
cannot but suppose that the complement of existence which it contains, has previously existed ; 
"in other words, that all we at present come to know as an effect, must previously have 
existed in its causes." 

According to this theory, the cause or causes of an object are the sum of the constituent 
elements of its being, existing at a previous time in a different form ; the effects are the same, 
as existing in another form at a subsequent time. This applies to every form of causation, 
even to the creation of the universe. For creation is not a springing of nothing into some- 
thing ; " it is conceived, and is by us conceivable merely as an evolution of a new form of 
existence by the fiat of the Deity." 

Similar to this theory in principle, is the theory of Mansel, ProJeg. Log.^ 
Hansel's version cna P- v - We have a positive consciousness of the relation of causality in the 
of the same. action of our own minds, but when we apply this to the phenomena of the 

material universe, it is only in some negative and inadequate signification. 
When we thus apply it, we do not use it as an original and necessary principle of knowledge, 
corresponding to which is a fundamental and universal relation of being, but we simply find 
ourselves so constituted, that, in the present state of existence and under the laws of our 
present mental constitution, we cannot but think every object under this relation. 

The theories of Hamilton and Mansel are in their principle identical with the general 
theory of Kant, from which they were plainly derived. They all agree in this, that 

t otn to Kant though we are forced in our human thinking and under the laws of our human consti- 

tution to believe in causation as universal, yet this necessity may result (Hamilton 
and Mansel both teach that it does result) from our incapacity to think objects under 

any other relation, i. e., as they explain this relation. Kant teaches that we are forced to conceive, i. e. 

image the relation of causation under the relations of changing phenomena succeeding one another in 

time. Hamilton states this assertion in a form more positive than that adopted by Kant. 

The objections to this positive explanation, so far as it is peculiar to 
Hamilton, are the following : 

8 603. (1.) It is not true that it is an original and necessary 

Objections. Ele- *> ■ V J ^ # S _ J 

ments of ex- belief that the complement 01 existence is not changed, with 
destructible. the changes of phenomena. For example, when a pile of 
fuel is consumed by fire, and only an inconsiderable residuum of ashes 
remains, men do not necessarily and instinctively assert that the total of 
the original constituents of the fuel is undiminished. So far is this from 
being true, that, on the other hand, they are slow to accept the evidence 
furnished by the most careful experiments of science, that the products, 
when analyzed and gathered after combustion, equal the elements of the 
substance before it was burned. 



§603. CAUSATION AND THE RELATION OF CAUSALITY. 591 

rhe impossibii- ( 2 «) The asserted impossibility to think an object as non- 
c^nge th ilgka^ existent is a logical, not a real impossibility. We cannot 
not real. think any thing not to be in thought, because, while we 

think of it, it must exist for us in thought. Even when we think of it 
as not existing, whether in the present or in the past, we must think of it 
as existing in thought, and to this object as existing in thought we must 
deny existence in fact. If we think of a centaur or a hippogriff, we must 
think of it as being. If, because we cannot think of an object actually 
existing to be non-existent, we may infer that the complement of its exist- 
ence does not change, we may also infer that, because we must think of a 
centaur or hippogriff as existing, they also in fact exist. 

(3.) The theory is utterly inadequate to explain psychical 

Does not explain v ' ,. _, J . J n , ' ■ ■ . V \ 

psychical causal- causality. The operations 01 the soul are, as we nave seen, 
eminently causal. From our conscious experience of this 
class of actions the first notion of causality is derived. Whether the 
effects in question are produced by the action of the soul within itself, 
and are purely psychical, or whether they are wrought in the nervous 
organism by the soul ; whether they are wrought upon matter by the soul, 
or upon the soul by matter ; in each of these cases the theory fails to 
satisfy. There is no complement of existence appearing in different forms 
at different times. An effect purely psychical, or physiological, or material, 
is not conceived as the same constituents under a new form. It is what 
the terms denote it to be — a product, an effect, a result of activity, a conse- 
quent of the power and action which are required for and appropriate to 
the result. 

(4.) It is still more incongruous with any right notion of 
St£Tr P ea?ion. creative causality. The creation of matter or of mind 
implies the production or origination into existence of that 
which did not exist in any of its constituents. It is called by Hamilton, 
" the evolution of a new form of existence by the fiat of the Deity." But 
evolution ought, in consistency with his theory, to signify the changing of 
the materials already existing under one form into some new form ; the 
kind of existence being already in being. This would require either that 
we believe in the co-eternity of matter with God, and that we restrict the 
agency of the Deity to the exercise of a merely plastic or formative energy, 
or it would involve the pantheistic view, that in the spiritual nature or 
constitution of God there was also present a material substance, from 
which, by a new evolution of divine action, the created universe emerged, 
as a new form of the matter which had from eternity existed in God. From 
spirit as such, from a pure spiritual essence, it cannot be conceived that 
matter should be evolved, in any consistency with the theory of Hamilton 
as defined by himself. 

(5.) The relation of causality is not special under the general law of 
the conditioned, if it be admitted that this law is truly stated. 



592 THE HUMAJST INTELLECT. §605. 

m B § 604. The third theory, -which is named sixth by Hamilton, among the theories 

Theory of ex- ..... ■' _ ., 

pectationof con- a priori, is as it would seem, even by Hamilton's own concession, rather rec- 

ture? 7 ° f na " °S nized for tne sake of making his scheme of classification complete, than 
because it deserves a separate place under either the class d priori, or the 
class a posteriori. It is that suggested by Dr. Brown, under the terms of the expectation of 
the constancy of nature in the succession of events. A close examination of Dr. Brown's 
meaning will show that he uses expectation as synonymous with belief or intuitional certainty, 
as indeed Hamilton himself recognizes. 

The various attempts to resolve the relation of causality into 

Conclusion. * . . " * > * / # 

our position re- some other relation either a posteriori or a priori having 
failed to be satisfactory, we return with greater confidence 
to the original position which we have already explained and defended 
that it is original and intuitive. 

The various applications of the relation and principle of causality in the processes of the 
intellect, as well as its significance as an assumption fundamental to our higher knowledge, 
illustrate and enforce its importance. These applications have been already so frequently 
insisted. upon and referred to, that it is useless to repeat them, especially as we shall have 
occasion to illustrate them at length in Chapter VII. 



CHAPTER VI. 

DESIGN OR EIXAL CAUSE. 



Fkom the principle or relation of causation we pass by a natural transition to the principle of 
design or adaptation, or, as it is usually termed, of final cause. We have already ex- 
plained that this, in an eminent sense, is a synthetic relation, and in this respect is con- 
trasted with the relation of causality. The movement of the latter is from the individual 
to the general, from the less to the more comprehensive. The movement of adaptation 
and final cause is from the general to the particular and the individual. It unites con 
stituent elements into constituted wholes. It follows causes and laws in their movements 
toward intended effects. It binds together different species and individuals in the unity 
of a harmonious system. It develops the existence and the events of this system after 
an order which supposes a definite plan for a definite end. It explains the beings and 
the powers, the laws and development of this system by a supreme Intelligence. 

Terms explain- § 605 « The phrase or term final cause should first of all be 
teriaf° r efficiSit' explained, and the connection of thought by which it is 
and final causes. a pp]j e( i to designate the relation of design. Aristotle and 
the schoolmen divided all possible or conceivable causes into four ; the 
material, formal, efficient, and final. The material cause is but another 
phrase for those material elements or principles of which any existence is 
composed, whether the matter is bodily or spiritual. The formal cause is 
the property or aggregation of properties which constitute its essence or 
notional content (in Aristotelian phraseology, its form). It answers to the 



§606. DESIGN OR PETAL CAUSE. 593 

belief which we have seen lay at the root of the views of the realistic con- 
ception of the correlate to the notion or general term. (§ 426). 

In these two senses, the word cause is equivalent to element or con- 
stitutive principle, each differing according as that which is constituted is 
matter or form. 

The efficient cause corresponds with the cause of modern philosophy, 
except that it was formerly appropriated to the most conspicuous or 
prominent of the agents or conditions that produce a result ; whereas, in 
modern usage, the term is extended to all those agents which, in combina- 
tion, originate an effect. 

The final cause was the design or end which was conceived as impel- 
ling and directing the action of a number or succession of agencies, till it 
was actually brought to pass. The propriety or at least the significance 
of this appellation can be understood by an example. If I form a pur- 
pose, as to build a house, to pay a visit, or make great moral or intellectual 
attainments, the event or result when made actual, will be the end of a 
series of events or actions. Hence the end, by a secondary signification, 
is made to signify a purposed result or a design, and the adjective final 
receives and suggests the same import. The purpose is called a cause, 
because it is conceived when formed as prompting or causing those events 
or acts which are necessary to its realization. Hence the appellation, final 
cause, — i. e., a cause, which, beginning as a thought, works itself at last 
into a fact as an end ox final result. 

Aristotle called the formal cause tV oxxxiav teal rb ri l\v ehai, the material cause t?V vK-qv 
Ka\ rb vTrond/xevoj', the efficient cause o&ev tj apx>i f?)s /aircrews, and the final cause rb ov eW/ca 
Kal Ta.-ya.h6v. Met. 1. I. 83 a 27, a 29, a 30, a 31. 

. § 606. The design conceived as directing or impelling a 

adaptation, how series of agents to an end, supposes that agencies exist in 
fact, or may exist, which will bring it to pass. The capacity 
of these efficient causes when combined to produce the effect is called their 
adaptation or fitness for it. The question is supposed to arise, what 
causes or agencies must be used in order that it may be effected, or in 
order that it may be effected in the best or the readiest manner ? It is 
answered by showing that the agencies selected will bring it to pass. 
This adaptation may be considered subjectively or objectively. If it is 
viewed as arranged or known by the designer, it may be considered sub- 
jectively. But whether it is known or not, the capacity for or the possi- 
bility of it exists and remains to be discovered. It pertains to actually 
existing forces and laws of nature, and is a relation which may be affirmed 
of such causes. A series or combination of causes, viewed as fitted for an end 
are called the means — literally the intermediate agencies — between the end 
as thought and the end as produced, and their relation to it, is adaptation, 

38 



594 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 608. 

The relation as- That the relation of design and the means of its execution. 
s^aiTd d e p?t often exists and may be traced in both spiritual and material 
ori - phenomena separately and conjoined together, will be denied 

by no one. The point which we assert and defend is that this relation is 
believed & priori to pervade all existence, and must be assumed as the 
ground of the scientific explanation of the facts and phenomena of the 
universe. We do not inquire whether it is observed in our experience as a 
psychological fact, but whether it lies at the ground of all our knowledge 
as a necessary relation of things, and a first principle or axiom of thought 
— whether, in other words, the principle of adaptation ranks with the prin- 
ciple of efficient causation as a necessary and a priori truth. 

The kind of * fc ma y & ^ us to nn d an answer to the question in the form last expressed, to 
k ". ° ™ * e d s e consider what description of knowledge rests upon the axiom of efficient 
efficient causa- causation. By the relation asserted in this axiom, we conceive of material 
and spiritual agents as endowed with powers. These powers are simply 
causal forces, competent to, and productive of, their appropriate effects. These powers act 
under their several conditions and according to their appropriate laws. It is the aim of sci- 
ence, as commonly conceived, to discover these powers by close and skilful observation, and 
to determine their laws by exact analysis and inventive experiment. The wider or narrower 
range of these powers and laws is also noticed by methodical arrangement, and in this way all 
beings and phenomena are explained according to their place in a scientific system. 

8 607. The question which we are now to answer is, whether 

Can final cause ° ■..'/»-•-• -, r- ~ i • • 

be similarly ap- the relation of design may be applied m a manner similar or 
analogous, to connect, to classify, and to explain facts and 
phenomena. Are the relations and laws which are ascertained by asking 
the questions why and how, the only relations conceivable, or do other 
relations hold the same place in our knowledge, viz., those which the ques- 
tion what for assumes, and requires as its answer? Aristotle gave the 
highest preeminence among all the causes to the ov eVe/ca or the what for. 
Was Aristotle right in assuming that the end is as important to be known 
as the definition, the conditions, and the origination of a being or a phe- 
nomenon ? 

No one will deny that if it were possible to determine the ends for which every 
Such an applica- thing exists and every event occurs, and to explain and arrange these beings 
be desirable. and phenomena under the relations which the end involves, a new interest 

would be imparted to the objects thus known, and the mind would experience 
a special gratification. Many objects are thus explained and arranged, and these results always 
attend the knowledge of them under these relations. But is this knowledge necessarily 
assumed as possible of all things and events ? Does the mind believe that every thing and 
every event is connected with every other thing and event under the relation of means and end ? 

S 608. We assert that the relation of means and end is 

Reasons. The ° , . . ■■ /» t t • • ,l 

mind impelled assumed a prion to be true ot every event and beiug in the 
jects by this re- universe, and that the mind directs its inquiries by, and rests 
its knowledge upon this, as an intuitive principle. Our 
reasons for the truth of this position are the following : 



§ 610. DESIGN OR FINAL CAUSE. 595 

(1.) The mind is impelled to seek, and is satisfied when it finds that any 
objects or events are related as means and ends. Whatever these objects 
may be which are connected under this relation, — whether they are indi- 
viduals that fill only single points in space and endure but for a moment 
of time, or whole classes that pervade the entire universe by their agency, 
and endure with energy unwasted from generation to generation, as the 
great forces that hold all beings together and minister to all motion and 
life — the mind inquires, for what do these exist and act ? and if it can find 
an answer, it accepts it with rational satisfaction. 

It asks the question and accepts the answer in a way precisely analogous to that in which 
it inquires and learns, By what agency and under what law does any thing exist and act ? It 
asks as pressingly and as persistently, concerning what it may find in this relation, as concern- 
ing what it can know under the relation of causation. When it receives a probable answer, 
it welcomes it with a more complete and a higher satisfaction than a similar explanation by 
efficient causes and their laws. This ground of analogy would lead us to believe that the two 
relations are both original and intuitively assumed. 

It forms no ground of objection, that this very argument for the truth of the principle 
rests on the assumption that the principle itself is true. We have observed that we must 
assume the truth of these principles in inquiring for the evidence that they are original. We 
assume the originality of causation, in inquiring whether it is an axiom of thought. In like 
manner we not only may, but we must assume design in proving that design is an original and 
ultimate category of knowledge and of things. 

The relation is §609. (2.) The relations under which this axiom requires that 
o^effidenTSu- objects should be connected, is higher than that by which 
sation - they are united under the category of efficient or blind causa- 

tive force. The relation of means to ends supposes that of cause and 
effect. We must first suppose causes or agents to exist, before we can 
suppose them to be applied or employed as means. Objects must be 
thought of as endowed with permanent powers, which act after fixed laws 
under recurring conditions, in order that these powers, conditions, and 
laws may be so disposed and arranged as to produce a designed effect. 
If there are no such forces and laws, there are no materials in respect to 
which adaptation can exist, or through which it can be made manifest or 
interpreted. 

But when these are ascertained, and by them unity and order and dependent relationships 
are established among the otherwise disconnected beings and events of the universe, the mind 
takes a step higher in its aspirations, seeking to rearrange under a higher connection objects 
united under these lower relations. The one being presumed, and in part at least successfully 
established, the mind believes that a higher is possible, and proceeds to discover it. Sub- 
jectively viewed, this relation gives a higher satisfaction. Objectively regarded, it stands 
higher in rational value than that of efficient causation, which is only a stepping-stone and 
preparation, with respect to this. 

The principle § 610. (3.) The principle has been of essential service in scien- 
vfce^cSntmc ^ c discovery. It being conceded that the appropriate sphere 
discovery. f sc i ence p r0 per is to develop and establish the so-called 



596 THE HUH AN INTELLECT. §611. 

powers and laws of nature, and that the discovery of adaptations lies 
without its sphere, it is still true that the belief that the universe is full of 
such adaptations, is of essential service in suggesting powers and laws 
previously undeveloped and undetermined. The history of scientific dis- 
covery abounds in confirmations of this truth. 

When Harvey observed that at the outlet of the veins and the rise of the 
Harvey's dis- . 

covery of the arteries there were lying within each certain valves, m the one opening in 

blood. n warc * towards the heart and in the other opening outward away from the 

same; he was persuaded that the arrangement indicated an end, which 

supposed activities and laws which were not yet known. The functions of the heart and the 

changes in the blood, so far as known, could not be accounted for by, nor could they account 

for, this structure. The arrangement of these valves, supposing that it was designed for some 

use, was most consistent with the contraction and dilatation of the heart and the outflow and 

return of the blood in a double circulation through the body and the lungs. 

When Cuvier found buried in the drift or the alluvial deposit, the thigh or 

tlon^of ^t 1C in arm "bone of an animal, and pondered over the depressions and protuberances 

comp a r a t i v e upon its surface, he observed that they were hollowed and elevated in such a 
anatomy. 

way as to be specially adapted to a single description of muscles. These 

muscles, in their turn, were adapted to the feet and claws of an animal who could spring upon, 

hold, and tear its prey. The length and shape of the bone required, by adaptation, bones of 

correspondent shape and size in the remainder of the limb and in the entire frame. Such a 

frame as this must be furnished with a peculiar head. Such a head could admit only peculiar 

jaws, and such jaws peculiar teeth. The teeth and fangs required a stomach and viscera fitted 

for the digestion of animal food. Guided by his belief in this complete adaptation of part to part, 

and of parts to the whole, he reconstructed the skeleton and the whole animal indeed, either 

in imagination or some representative material, in the full confidence that if such an animal 

did not then exist it had existed once, and this bone had formed a part of its structure. 

By and by he hears that it exists in some remote part of the earth, or an entire skeleton is 

disinterred as like as possible to the one which he had built up in his museum. 

Further illustrations of the value of this principle in scientific discovery will be given 

when we treat of its application to the several sciences. 



The Foundation 



611. (4.) The entire superstructure of the Inductive Philos- 
of tie inductive ophy rests upon the principle in question. This position has 
been already discussed in part in treating of Induction. 
It has been already shown that the Inductive method rests on several 
assumptions. They are such as these : nature is uniform in her operations 
and laws ; the indications or signs of less obvious powers and laws may 
be confided in ; the analogies of nature are important means of suggesting 
facts and laws, and of inciting to experiment and discovery ; the simplest 
relationships, the fewest agencies, and the most economical use of forces 
are always presumed. These and other like axioms of the student of 
nature are but varied applications of the principle in question ; viz., that 
in the universe objectively considered, there is an intelligent and icise 
adaptation of powers and laws to rational ends, and that the same is true 
of the relation of the universe to the knowing mind. 

It is not sufficient for the philosopher to say that without these assumptions, the science 
of nature itself would be impossible, inasmuch as the conception of science requires that 



§612. DESIGN OR FINAL CAUSE. 59 < 

powers should be fixed, and laws should be uniform, and indications and analogies should be 
trustworthy; that were science not to assume the truth of these maxims she would commit 
suicide. To this it is pertinent to reply, what if science itself should be impossible ? What 
is the imperative necessity for science ? The physicist must concede that the adaptations 
of nature, to the methods and impulses of the knowing mind are such as indicate, at least 
that class of designs in the structure of the universe, which the possibility of science requires 
It is clear that the very axioms of the Inductive process presume the relation of final 
2ause. This of itself goes far to prove that the relation itself is original to the mind, and is 
intuitively discerned. But this Principle is not only required to sustain and enforce our con- 
fidence in the axioms of the Inductive method, but 

Required to ex- § 612. (5.) It is also needed to explain those phenomena of 
plain the pheno- organic existence, which the relations of efficient causes are 

mena of organic & # ' 

existences. entirely incompetent to resolve or even to define. An organic 

being, or an organism, can only be defined as a being of which each organ 
acts for the integrity and well-being of every other organ, and all act 
together for the life of the whole. More abstractly, and in the terms of the 
relation in question, an organism is abeing in which each of the parts and the 
whole are respectively means and ends for one another. We find it, in fact, 
to be true, that in any living being, -whether plant or animal, the elements 
or organs act together so as to promote the action of each other, and of 
the whole. If the appropriate function of each organ is performed, the 
function of every other is also fulfilled, and when all together are exerted 
they are the conditions of the growth, the development and the several 
other functions of the plant or animal. In the animal, the action of the 
lungs is necessary to that of the heart, and the action of the heart to that 
of the lungs, the action of both to the action of the stomach, and the 
action of the stomach to that of both these, and the mutual action of these 
and the remaining organs, to the health and life of the whole body. 

The elements or agents of which these organs are composed, have their well- 
forces 11 and 1 laws ascertained mechanical and chemical properties, and when these are combined 
do not dispense in inorganic substances, their results follow the laws which control them. 

But when they are combined in living beings or their organs, these powers 
and laws do not explain in the least degree these compounds or their functions. The materials 
or agents which form the heart, the lungs or the brain, do not at all explain the peculiar 
substance, form, or functions of these organs ; much less do they account for the singular 
capacity which they possess of producing a whole on which they depend for their own existence 
as a living heart, lungs and brain, and which in its turn as a living whole is dependent on 
each of these. 

To meet the exigency and to account for these phenomena, a new force has 
The vital force been resorted to by physiologists called the vital force or the principle of life, 
aside. which, it is urged, is as truly proved by these effects to exist as are the several 

mechanical and chemical agents by and upon which it acts. Others reject 
the doctrine of a single force as a merely abstract term or fiction for the total of the activities 
of these several agents to their peculiar results. Whichsoever of the two views is adopted, 
whether that of a single force modifying the action of these agents, or of the reciprocal 
modification by these forces of one another, no law or rule has as yet been discovered in 
-espeet to their action which cast any light upon either the formation or functions of the 



598 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §612 

organs or organisms in question. The same materials combine to form the structure of the 
heart, the lungs and the brain. And yet under this force, whatever it may be, out of the same 
constituents are formed these three organs, each shaped according to its typical form and each 
endowed with its special function. The heart is moulded, divided into cavities and endowed witt 
a rare capacity of perpetual and almost independent activity ; the lungs are expanded into an 
almost gauze-like tissue, through which without rending the texture, the blood can come into 
chemical combination with the oxygen of the atmosphere ; the dough-like substance of the 
brain is kneaded into unsymmetrical and insignificant forms, which in some way become the 
organ of the most refined functions of sense and reason. These are so united with other organs 
as inexplicable as themselves, as by organic actions and reactions to make a living whole, after 
the law of a species, and yet sustaining an individual life. These facts we observe ; these 
phenomena we generalize, yet only in the rudest way. The laws or processes by which the 
nitrogen and carbon are made into heart and brain we do not discover. All that we can do, 
is within the sphere of the mechanical and chemical relations of the constituent elements to 
observe the resultant products into which they are transmuted ; but the laws by which they 
produce them, are hidden from view. The Inductive philosophy, with its efficient causations, 
is wholly at a loss : It cannot explain how the agents which form the vegetable or the animal 
cell should impart to that least microcosm the wonderful power of adding cell after cell to its 
substance or of developing a new cell from within itself. Much less can it explain why or 
how it is that one cell is the rudiment of a plant and another that of an animal — that one 
expands into this plant, and another into that ; one into this animal and another into that. 
All this is totally unknown. The principle of life and the conditions of life are only names 
for causes that cannot be explained by such methods. The effects cannot even be described, 
much less explained by the relations of efficient causes or powers. 

Under these circumstances we resort to the relation of design 

Relations of. _, __ _, , „ , _ __,. .. 

adaptation m order to define and explain the phenomena. I he adapta- 
tion can be scientifically expressed as follows. The constitu- 
ent agents, "besides the powers, as mechanical or chemical, which they are 
known to possess, are also so constituted that they can be combined in an 
organ or an organism, so as to sustain it as living so long as it in turn 
sustains them as living. Their power to do this is defined only by individual 
effects, but cannot be defined by any general formulae. The materials 
can never a second time share — by giving and receiving — in the same life. 
That which makes them living, is their relation to one individual life. 
The variety of these adaptations is as great as the number of individual 
lives into which they could possibly enter. The action or function of each 
part and of the whole is as though an intelligence had carefully fitted each 
to the other, and controlled the mutual action of each by studied adjust- 
ments to every individual case. 

After no other relation can we explain how dead matter is transmuted into living parti- 
cles, and how an aggregate of these particles is developed into living organs, which live 
together so long as the being lives of which they are parts. By no other law than that of 
design can we explain how each class of living beings works for itself, having a form, habits, 
tastes, and instincts peculiar to itself, and how each individual of each class is an end to itself, 
having an individual form, size, and other peculiarities more or less marked, according to ita 
rank and place in the scale of being. 



§ 614. DESIGN 0E FINAL CAUSE. 590 

Eeiation of final § 613. Two facts are here suggested touching the relation of 

o effi cient ° °° ° 

causes in the final to efficient causes. The first is, that the higher we rise 

higher orders of. . , r»T • 

being. m the order of beings, the less we know of the relations 

of efficient causes ; but those of * final cause are more and more various ana 
conspicuous. In unorganized matter we have occasion chiefly to apply effi- 
cient causes and their unvarying laws. As we rise into the sphere of 
chemical and crystalline combinations, while many such forces and laws 
are still clearly distinguished and definitely ascertained, the mystery in re- 
spect to both seems to deepen; but the adaptations grow more conspicuous. 
As we ascend into the regions of life, we are more and more baffled in our 
attempts to detect the elementary forces and to determine the unvarying 
laws, but are more and more gratified at seeing the relations of adapta- 
tion become more and more conspicuous. 

Second : The one of these relations does not displace the 
dSpiace d ° e th°e other ', nor do discoveries in respect to the one either eoni- 
other * pel or allow us to dispense with the search after the other. 

On the contrary, the more complete is our analysis of efficient forces 
and our determination of their laws, the greater is the opportunity to 
notice how the structure whose constituents are exposed by analysis, 
is controlled by manifest fitness and adaptation. As has already been 
observed, it is only as physical forces are discerned, that the relations 
of adaptation can be made manifest. On the other hand, discerned 
adaptations suggest the possibility of unknown elements, and prompt to 
the search after them. Each newly discovered element and determined 
law opens an opportunity for some adaptation as yet unobserved. 

Objections : (1.) 

Men mistake m 8 614. To the doctrine that the belief in design is intuitive, 

their judgments o # ° 

about final the following are urged as objections : 

causes. ° ° J 

(1.) Men mistake in discovering or assigning ends, and the mistakes 
into which they fall are irrational and foolish ; whatever an ignorant or 
selfish man may think important to himself, he thinks must have been 
designed in the economy of nature, and is thus in continual danger of 
setting up his narrow and interested judgments as the real adaptations 
and intents of the Creator. 

It is sufficient to reply that, if men mistake in assigning the ends of 
phenomena, they do the same in interpreting their causes. It is not at all 
in question whether men can discover particular ends with infallible cer- 
tainty, but whether they intuitively believe there are ends to which all 
beings and agents are adapted, and for which they are designed. 

The objection enables us to bring out distinctly the truth that, in both respects, the 
principle of causation and of final cause stand upon the same footing. In the application of 
both to individual cases men are liable to error, and, for similar reasons, from defect of intellect, 
from hasty observation and narrow generalization, as well as from the moral defects of vanity 



600 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 615, 

indocility, and self-will. In the assumption and belief of these principles they are equally 
confident as they should be, because both are alike intuitive. 

(2.) our inter- § 615 - ( 2 ^ ma 7 ^ e objected that we have no means of 
neither ?! tes?ed ^ 8 ^ n 9 and confirming our inductions in respect to ends! 
nor confirmed. w hile in respect of causes and laws we are provided with 
tests, rules, and methods which are universally acknowledged to be all- 
sufficient. In ordinary cases the methods of agreement, of difference, and 
of concomitant variations are acknowledged to *be ample: In special 
exigencies artificial experiments may be instituted to supplement the 
deficiences of simple observation : But in ascertaining ends we have no 
such methods, tests, or experiments. 

In reply, we observe that the so-called methods and rules of induction are no self-acting 
categories or logical machinery which need only to be set in motion to secure infallibility from 
error, but are simply general maxims which sum up and record the proceses which are natural 
to all men. Man performs inductions as really without as with the conscious use of these 
rules, thereby showing that he believes in the universal prevalence and discoverableness of 
causes and laws. So, also, does he search after and discover ends as naturally and readily, 
which indicates that his belief in design is original and necessary. If it were to be conceded 
that each are discovered and tested by methods peculiar to themselves, and that those used for 
the one were more precisely determined than those appropriate to the other, this would not 
weaken our confidence either in the general intuition, or in our special applications of it. 

_, , ... We are not, however, forced to this concession. It will be 

Wot entirely un- 7 ' 

likein their op- found on closer inspection, that the methods appropriate to 

eration or phe- l ' i l r 

nomena. the two are more nearly alike than would be at first 

imagined. It has been already shown, § 605, that the end or purpose in 
its relations to the means of its realization, may be conceived of as an 
efficient force carried back from the end to the beginning of the series of 
causes and effecte, which drives them to their issue by a constant energy. 
If this be so, then the determination of the question, What is the par- 
ticular end of a combination or series ? may be ascertained by the methods 
appropriate to an efficient cause, the end being conceived as acting like 
such a cause. It may be less easy in some cases to suggest or devise the 
probable end than it is to conjecture the probable cause, inasmuch as 
many such ends might be supposed in a given case as equally compatible 
with the effects. But, on the other hand, it may be urged that in other 
departments of nature, as the organic and historical, the ends and adapta- 
tions are so obvious as to flash upon the mind without the need of inquiry 
or tests of any kind, while in these very departments the efficient forces 
are so withdrawn as to elude the most subtle analysis, and to refuse to 
yield to the most exact and rigorous methods. 

Nor should we for a moment forget that these very methods of in- 
duction rest on the assumption of this same adaptation to rational ends in 
the constitution of nature, for which we claim the priority and authority 
of a principle intuitively discerned. 



§616. DESIGN OR FINAL CAUSE. 601 

(3 tms relation § 616, ( 3> ) ^ ma J ^e st ^ further objected that the adaptation 
derived from f me ans to ends is a phenomenon, or actual relation, of which 

conscious expe- A ,.' 7 # 

rience. we are aware from our own conscious activity, and it is simply 

by a fiction or imagination that we transfer it to other, i. e., to mate- 
rial objects : If it be granted that we adapt means to ends in our own 
rational procedures, we are not therefore warranted in affirming that a 
similar procedure is to be assumed of the entire universe. 

To this objection we reply, that the activity of our own 

The same is true J . ,. , . , "" ,.« -, 

of that of em- mmds and the relations which are instanced or exemplified 

cient causation. . . . 

m them, hold precisely the same relation to efficient as to 
final causes. The most complete knowledge, we may say the only com- 
plete knowledge, which we have of power or efficiency, is gained through 
or by means of the active energy of our own spirits. By this, we in a cer- 
tain sense image, cf. §597. this abstract relation whenever we have occa- 
sion to affirm it of impersonal or material agents. In doing so we use ex- 
amples, associations, and language taken from our personal activity. But 
we do not thereby in thought attach to a material agent the properties of 
personal will, such as usually attend the exertion of spiritual force in the 
direction of the thoughts and movements of the body. 

Still less is it true that we affirm this relation of all the objects in the universe, because we 
have happened to have experience of its agency in our own spirits. We assume, i. e., intuitively 
affirm it as necessary to a rational construction of the universe. In the same way we assume 
that an adaptation such as that by which we consciously control all the higher activities of our 
nature and the results of which we impress upon and manifest in the material structures which 
we contrive, holds good of the causal arrangements of the universe, both material and spiritual, 
and is employed to explain its constitution and its phenomena. 

But the objection itself suggests an argument in defence of the propriety of 
phical to trans- making this very application of final cause. The power of adapting means to 
e«L« J!^ 1 con " ends is one with which we ourselves are very familiar in our own conscious ex- 
perience. We propose ends. We devise and arrange, i. e., adapt means to 
bring them to pass. We interpret the actions of others by supposing that they are directed 
by such intentions and adaptations. We interpret the results of their actions when fixed and 
made permanent in structures wrought by the same relation. No one denies that the relation 
exists in portions of the universe, i. e., in the activities and energies of the human soul ; or that 
it is proper to apply it to the explication of those creations which are known to proceed from 
the human intellect. By this we solve or explain every machine which is submitted to our in- 
spection. We assume that every thing that is made by man is constructed for some end. When 
we study it, we do not merely seek to understand the parts of which it is composed in their 
capacities and laws of working, but we seek to trace out the ends for which they are combined, 
and the various adaptations of which they are capable ; tracing out not merely their capacity 
to accomplish certain ends in a certain manner, but to accomplish desirable ends in the 
best manner. 

The relation un- ^ * s a *" a * r ^ r Sf^^entum ad hominem to say, that here is a 
questioned known agent or power in the universe which acts in a given 

in some apphca- . . & 

" ions - way. The agency is spiritual, which first proposes ends and 

then adapts forces for their achievement. It is certainly possible or sup 



602 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §617. 

posable that the results of a similar agency should pervade the universe, 
making themselves manifest in a discoverable adaptation. To assume or 
employ it in the explanation of phenomena is not unphilosophical. 

J. S. Mill well observes in his Logic, B. III. c. xiv. § 7 : " There is a great difference between inventing 
laws of nature to account for classes of phenomena and merely endeavoring in conformity with known 
laws to conjecture what collocations, now gone by, may have given birth to individual facts still in exist- 
ence. The latter is the strictly legitimate operation of inferring from an observed effect the existence in 
time past of a cause similar to that by which we know it to be produced in all cases in which we have had 
actual experience of its origin." The application of this principle to our line of argument is obvious. 
There is a known relation resulting from a well-known kind of action. It prevails by the concession of 
all on a limited scale, viz., as far as the effects and products of human adaptation are found. To suppose 
the presence of a similar relation on a wider scale and as explaining a great variety of phenomena, in 
short, to assume that it is one of the two great relations which hold good of the universe, is by this crite- 
rion of Mill not unphilosophical. The relation is known to exist, just as that of causation is known to 
exist. It is not unphilosophical to assume that it may have as wide an application. 

(4.) Two prind- §617. (4.) It may be objected still further, that if we recosj- 

ples introduced C . _ \ ' J ... . . , . & 

mto philosophy nize nnal cause as a principle, we introduce into the universe, 
sibiy conflict. for the explication of its phenomena, two principles, of 
which the one may possibly conflict with the other. In so doing we 
weaken confidence in the processes and axioms of pure science, and in the 
stability of the laws and the order of nature. Science, it is contended, 
must assume not only the stability but the supremacy of its own laws, and 
it can neither recognize nor respect any other. 

It may be urged in reply that the principle of final cause, is so far from 
weakening our practical confidence in the stability of the laws of nature 
or disturbing our faith in the axioms of science, that it confirms both. 
What science blindly assumes, this rationally accounts for and makes neces- 
sary. It gives a reason for the order of nature and the principles of 
knowledge, and the only reason which can be suggested, viz. the adaptation 
of such order to the uses and ends of the human intellect, and of human 
science. As we have shown already, it furnishes the only solid foundation 
for the assumptions of induction. 

But it will still be objected : if efficient causes and physical 

Final causes , ' - ■ « ' , .___ _ \ J 

claim the pre- laws are to acknowledge themselves indebted to nnal causes 

cccicncc* 

that they may command our confidence, then they must also 
confess their subjection to the same, and be ready to stand aside and 
be suspended whenever the principle of final cause shall require. In 
other words, the order of nature may be broken whenever the principle 
of final cause shall require ; whenever the claims of the so-called reason of 
things, or of alleged moral and religious interests may demand an inroad 
upon its regularity, either in special acts of creation or exertions of miracu- 
lous agency. This we assent to, but, we find no reason on this account 
to reject the principle or its asserted supremacy, but an additional reason 
for asserting both. If the principle of final cause will not only render the 
service of sustaining our confidence in the stability of the laws of nature 
in all ordinary circumstances, but will also account for such extraordinary 



§ 619. DESIGN OR FINAL CAUSE. 603 

deviations from this order as may be required in the history of man, it 
deserves for this double service to be esteemed of greater value and 
authority. [Cf. Locke, Essay, B. iv. c. xvi. § 13.] 

(5 The search § 618. (5.) It is objected still further, that the search after final 
hl e s ^MndOTel causes nas seriously hindered the advancement of science, by 
discovery. turning aside the attention and interest of observers from 

their appropriate duty, which is the investigation and determination of 
efficient causes and their laws. 

Lord Bacon, it is said, was so alive to its evil influence as to utter his memorable and oft-repeated 
caution in the words : " Causarum finalium inquisitio sterilis est et tanquam virgo Deo consecrata nihil 
parit."— De Aug. Scient., III. 4. Descartes was still more strenuous in the same opinion, as appears from 
these assertions : " Totum illud causarum genus quod a fine peti solet in rebus physicis nullum usum 
habere existimo ; non enim absque temeritate me puto posse investigare fines Dei."— Med., iv. 20. "Ita. 
denique nullas unquam rationes circa res naturales a fine quam Deus aut natura in iis faciendis sibi pro- 
posuit discernimus, quia non tantum non debemus nobis arrogare ut ejus consiliorum nos esse participes 
putemus." — JPrinc. Phil., p. I. 28. 

To this objection we reply : That what Bacon intended was that the attention of the 
inquirer should not be diverted from the investigation of efficient causes by the sug- 
ofBaeor 1611111118 gestion of ends or adaptations, for the appropriate sphere of the interpreter of nature 
is to develop agents and laws that are unknown, or newly to confirm and exemplify 
those already established. In this he was right. A more complete exhibition of the 
mutual relations of the two would have required him to assert that it is only by ascertaining efficient causes 
that we can reach final causes, inasmuch as we assume powers and laws of nature as the means by which, 
and the conditions under which, these ends are to be attained. The more we know of the variety and 
reach of the resources of nature, the wider is our acquaintance with the variety of her ends, the skill of 
the mutual adaptation of the two, and the economy and sagacity of her workings. That Bacon himself 
believed that nature is penetrated and illumined by the higher relations of design is evident from this 
among similar intimations : " I had rather believe all the fables in the Legend and the Talmud and the 
Alcoran, than that this universal frame is without a mind." * * " For while the mind of man looketh 
upon second causes scattered, it may sometimes rest in them and go no further ; but when it beholdeth 
the chain of them, confederate and linked together, it must needs fly to Providence and the Deity."— 
Essays, xvi. 

When Bacon says that the inquiry after final causes is with- 
scientific pro- outfruit, he must mean ' practical fruit,' or the production of 

direct advantage to the interests of man. It is, in fact, so far 
from being barren, as to be most fruitful of important results in the way 
of discovery, and to contribute indirectly, in this way, to the extension of 
man's dominion over nature, and the advancement of his comfort and well- 
being. We have already seen, §610, that the consideration of ends may be 
fruitful in the suggestion of undiscovered agencies as their means, and in 
many cases, has actually been a most important agent in such discovery. It 
is always efficient in leading to the prudens qucestio, the sagacious guess, or 
the ingenious hypothesis, which, as the sacred herald, has so often opened 
the way for the more prosaic and practical train of decisive experiments. 
If our doctrine is correct, that the methods and rules of induction them- 
selves rest upon the belief in design, then final cause is so far from being 
barren that she deserves to be honored as the Alma Mater of the Induc- 
tive Philosophy itself. 

(6.) The adap- 8 619. (6.) It is objected a^ain, that what are called the adap- 
tations of nature .' . j , ,.. „. 

are only the con- tations of nature, are only the necessary conditions of exist- 

ditions of exis- .. . . * 

tence. ence and its phenomena. 



604 



THE HUMAN INTELLECT. 



619. 



When, for example, the eye is said to be adapted to the light, and both 
to the production of vision, this says the objector, is only another phrase for 
saying that the eye as we find it, acting with the light as we find it, pro- 
duces the pictures upon the retina, and these acting with the intellect and 
sentient organism, produce the sense-perceptions which we call vision. 
What are called the ends of nature, to which her forces are said to be 
adapted, are simply the effects of which these forces are the necessary 
and actual conditions, which we transfer in thought to a period before 
the activity which we presume they were fitted and arranged to accom- 
plish. The fish, we say, is adapted in its structure and its instincts to the 
water, and the water was prepared with relation to the fish, but there 
could be no fish without the water, for without this, the existence and 
conception of the fish are impossible. 

1 We know only what appears, i. e., what is made manifest, and we know it under the single 
relation of the forces which cause it to be. This is the only relation under which we can re- 
gard it. As to whether other effects might or might not have been produced from these causes 
in different conjunctions and intensities, we have no means of deciding. Whether other effects 
may not be produced in future we cannot say. All that we know is what has been, and now is, 
and by what means. These have been, and are, and occur under the condition of these very 
causes and laws. To say that these conditions are also adapted to these effects as ends, is to 
superinduce a relation which is not required for the explanation of the facts. The interpreta- 
tion of actual effects as adapted or intended or as ends is a mere fiction of the imagination.' 



" I take good care," says Geoffroy St. Hilaire, " not to ascribe any intention to God, for I distrust the 
feeble powers of my reason. I observe facts merely and go no farther. I only pretend to the character 
of the historian of what is. I cannot make nature an intelligent being who does nothing in Tain, 
who acts by the shortest mode, who does all for the best." — Phil. Zool. p. 10. To the. same purport says 
Auguste Comte, " Si les philosophes qui de nos jours tiennent encore a la doctrine des causes finales n'etaient 
point ordinairement depourvus d'une veritable instruction scientifique un peu approfondie ils n'auraient 
pas manque," etc.— Phil. Pos., II. 38. " Toutes fois les irrationels partisans des causes finales s'efforcaient 
vainement d'appliquer une telle consideration a la justification philosophique de leur absurde optimisme." 
—IV. 638. 

It is manifest that these views coincide precisely with those of the old Epicureans, who conceived the 
universe with its living beings as the result of blind forces, in respect to the action of which we could not 
say what might yet come or how long the present forces might continue. 

A special application has been made of this dictum to the doctrine of the nature and pro- 
duction of species in animal and vegetable life, by Dr. Darwin, in his work on the Origin of 
Species. This writer teaches that the so-called species in nature are the accidental, but 
not intended, consequents of certain combinations which gave predominance to certain con- 
spicuous attributes or properties, which were again strengthened by other combinations till 
they were fixed into permanent races by the conspiring action of the same forces under 
which they gradually assumed their present forms. In the processes of animal generation and 
vegetable growth multitudes of other possible species have been evolved, but the laws of life 
were not friendly to their continuance, or to the development and action of their peculiar prop- 
erties, and so they perished. The stronger individuals conquered the weaker, and thus, under 
the law of natural selection, the forms of being now called species, both animal and vegetable, 
exist and occupy the earth ; an equilibrium having been at last attained after an indefinitely 
long period of strife, of action and counteraction, of balancing and final adjustment. For a 
statement of this theory in earlier times see Lucretius, de Nat. rerum, v. 837, sqq., and for a 
reply, Cicero, de Nat. deor. 37. 



§621. DESIGN OK FINAL CAUSE. 605 

Reply. The § 620. In reply to this class of objections, we need only say 
nofderiveSSom that they apply, not to the position that the belief in final cause 
experience. - g a £ rgt p r i nc ipi e? but to the doctrine that this belief is derived 

from observation and required by experience. If the principle is intuitive 
and a priori (in the sense explained, § 521), we bring it with us to the ex- 
planation of the facts. We do not derive it from experience by an a po- 
steriori method, but we apply it to experience by one relatively a priori. 
It is true, if facts and phenomena were inconsistent with the principle, we 
should be embarrassed by the discrepancy of the two. But no incompati- 
bility is urged, but only that final causes are not proved by experience. It 
is conceded that the explanation by efficient causes is not inconsistent with 
that by final causes, inasmuch as it is through effects actually produced 
that we infer they were intended and provided for. 

Experience But we take issue with the position that we find nothing 

gives ns more ,..,.. 

than the condi- more than the conditions of existence, as we come to 

tions of mere ex- .. „ . _ . . • i i „ -,. 

istence. the study ot nature with the expectation that we shall dis- 

cover special examples of adaptation. We find not merely the conditions 
of mere existence in the causes of effects produced, but the conditions 
of well-being, or adaptations to a highly artificial, elevated, and re- 
fined existence and enjoyment ; and these in forms so manifold as to be 
entirely consistent with the a priori principle which we bring to the ex- 
planation of the facts. The proof of this assertion can only be gathered 
from the study of individual examples. 

The most striking of these are found in the study of living organisms. We discover in the 
eye not merely the conditions of sight, but of perfect, unembarrassed vision, as in the dark pig- 
ment with which the inner chamber is coated to prevent the disturbing influence of reflected 
rays upon the picture within. "We notice also the closing or opening of the iris according 
to the intensity of the stimulating light, as it contracts and withdraws this delicate fringe to 
suit its occasions. We observe also the power of self-adjustment with which the retina 
itself is endowed so as to act as a movable screen which goes back and forward to and from 
the lenses that refract the light, and the more wonderful pliancy with which the form of each 
is flattened or rounded according to the distance of the object. We see in those animals 
which require a long vertical range of vision and in those which require a range that is hori- 
zontal a corresponding shape of the pupil and opening through it. We find, moreover, in 
some animals, as the horse, an ingenious, self-acting arrangement for wiping and cleansing the 
eye. In all these facts we find not merely the conditions of certain forms of being, but 
instances of adaptation to certain forms of well-being. 

§ 621. (7.) It may be objected again : that adaptation can only 
is limited to or- be traced in fact in a limited class of phenomena, viz., those 

ganic existence. .,. , .« , . . * 

of organized existence, whereas were it a first truth it might 

be discerned in all kinds of being, the inorganic as truly as the organic. 

It is sufficient to reply that examples can be found in every kind of 

object-matter as will be shown in another place. They are more striking 



606 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 623. 

witlim the region and sphere of life, indeed, but are not less real beyond 
that sphere. Besides, this axiom is the foundation on which rests the 
structure of the inductive method, which is as often applied to inorganic 
as to organic being — to the dispositions and relations of the great 
masses which make up the structure of the universe as truly as to the 
inner relations which unite the parts of a living being. This makes 
necessary its application to every kind and style of existence, if this were 
the only ground. 
(s.) we are not 8. 622. (8.) It might also be urged that we cannot trace or 

warranted in af- ? v 7 _ . ° _ • 'T -A . '. - ' , 

firming it of aii interpret adaptations on a scale sufficiently extensive to war- 
ence. rant our affirming that they exist throughout the whole uni- 

verse of being. ' We may, indeed, guess at them within a limited range ot 
observation, but we cannot actually survey the vast spaces which are filled 
with material and spiritual life, nor can we ever be certain that we have 
mastered them all in thought. There may be some portion of this universe 
which design does not control and where adaptations do not exist. It is 
presumptuous to assume that we can trace the adaptations and discover 
the ends of the entire universe.' 

If all this were admitted, the facts would not hold against the prin- 
ciple that ends exist, and that adaptations to them regulate all the things 
that are. It is for the principle which we contend, not for infallibility in 
the application of it to individual cases. 

It is with final causes in this respect as it is with efficient causes. That 
both exist, and both control the universe is known to the human mind by 
the necessity of its nature. The discovery of instances and examples of each 
is accomplished by experience and induction. Both can be traced by ob- 
servation to but few classes of objects, and within that portion of the uni- 
verse only which comes under our eye or ear, or the report of our fellow- 
men. 

But one can be traced as far as the other. What is connected with its fellow as adapted to 
an end under this relation, is an efficient agent or force. If we can trace gravitation as far as the 
utmost verge of material being, we can also affirm that it was designed to hold the masses in their 
relative positions and their paths of motion. The principle of final cause moreover is absolutely 
required to warrant the extension of the relations of efficient causes observed within a limited 
sphere, throughout those regions of which observation and testimony can give only an uncer- 
tain and incomplete report. 

(9 ) Adaptation § 623, ( 9 *) " LaSt ° f a11 ** ma ^ ^ e Sa ^> tliat tlie reco g nition 

cannot be affirm- f this as a first principle would require us to ascribe inten- 

ed of an unlim- r x j 

ited Being. tion and adaptation to an unlimited Being, whereas it 

supposes certain forces or powers already given or existing, and the 
problem arises how to dispose of these so as to attain or produce the de- 
signed result. Such a problem can never, it is contended, be presented to 
an unlimited Being, who, by the very supposition, is not shut up to forces 
or agencies which already exist, but can produce effects by a fiat of crea« 



§ 625. DESIGN OR FINAL CAUSE. 607 

tive will. Moreover, the supposition would introduce into such a mind 
an order the reverse of the rational. It would make the production of 
agencies go before the disposition of them to an end. It would make 
blind force precede wise forecast. 

None of these inferences are warranted. Because in the order of de- 
sign thought must recognize the possible adaptations of forces, it does 
not follow that the forces must exist in order to be thought of as existing, 
or in orcler that certain adaptations should be determined. Both, indeed, 
may be objects of design, the existence of the forces and their adapta- 
tions; or rather, the existence of the forces because of their adaptations to 
accomplish some end of thought. Even the human mind, impotent as it 
is to create, sometimes imagines to itself, i e., creates in thought some new 
agent in the world of matter or of spirit, and revels in contriving the 
variety of uses to which it might make it subservient. How much more 
readily may that Being whose thoughts can in any instant become powers, 
laws, and facts ! 

The rinci le is § 62 ^ # "^ u ^ * ne mos * instructive view which we can take of 
c»Snne e d i>v?ts tn * s principle i s to contemplate the variety of its appli- 
applications. cations. Truths purely metaphysical, especially First or 
Intuitional Truths, are never apprehended in actual being as general prop- 
ositions. They can only be discerned in the concrete, as they actually 
connect individual things or phenomena. Thus, we cannot discern causation 
or adaptation as universal d priori; we only discern an event or 
being as causative or caused, as a means or an end. When we appeal 
to the use which is made of these relations in the sciences as proof that 
they are fundamental and intuitive, we expect to find that these sciences 
constantly assume these relations to be valid, by connecting their objects 
by means of them. The constant repetition of this relation and the im- 
portant uses to which it is applied add incidental strength to the positive 
arguments for its being an intuition of the intellect. 

,. „. 8 625. 1. The first application which we notice is that which 

Is applied in « rr ^ ^ 

metaphysical sci- jg made bv metaphysical science itself. We have already 

ence itself. . . . . . , . 

insisted on its importance in sustaining sundry metaphysical 
axioms of Induction. § 487. Upon this we need not dwell. 

Its application in the formation and arrangement of those general con- 
ceptions which are at once the materials and the conditions of all science, 
is of equal consequence, though perhaps not equally obvious. 

(rt.) The principle of final cause regulates the formation of concepts. 

By abstraction or analysis we separate the qualities or attributes of existing 
In the formation beings, and by synthesis we unite them so as to form concepts representing 
of concepts. rea j an( j fictitious objects. We define these concepts by enumerating the con- 

stituent elements which make up the essence of each. For example, chalk as 
a concept, is defined as white, with a certain feel, etc., etc., or, scientifically defined, it is a 
carbonic acid united with lime. The formula representing any concept and its constituents 



608 THE HUM AT* INTELLECT. § 627 

isA=a + b-j-c + d, etc., etc. But we are not at liberty to select any attributes whicb 
analysis gives us and to unite them into any complex notion which they might form. Some 
are adapted by logical compatibility to be conjoined, while others are not so fitted. If 
we search into the grounds of the rules or axioms which regulate this logical compati- 
bility we shall find that they rest upon the assumption that nature has designed that 
things or beings to which we apply our concepts should permanently continue, giving meaning 
to the law of identity ; that they should be distinguished, giving the law of contradiction ; and 
that they should be generalized, giving the law of the excluded middle. Again : we assume 
that nature has fitted these objects to be known in their actual relations. This leads us to 
infer that the laws of thought really represent the relations of things. 

But again : not all the attributes which are logically compatible are, in fact, united in 
concepts by any earnest thinker. The centaur, the mermaid, the hippogriff are logically pos- 
sible, but not actually. Why? Because the properties or attributes which constitute them 
are not adapted to exist together in the same being, and, of course, except for the service of 
the fancy, are never combined. The mouth of man could not receive the food fitted for the 
stomach of the horse, and the body of a man could not be carried " full high advanced " upon 
the shoulders and body of the same animal. There is something in these properties, or in what 
they represent, which fits them to coexist, or they cannot with any reason be combined in a con- 
cept which connects the rational and real ; which represents things as actual or possible, or 
contemplates them as ends under existing powers or laws. 

in the system- § 626. (b.) The same principle must be assumed in the ar- 

ization of con- « p ■ _. 

cepts. rangement 01 a system 01 concepts as genera and species. 

It is evident, that as we might make as many concepts as the varied aggregations of 
single attributes would allow, so these might be arranged into as many genera and species as 
the similar rule of permutation and combination would permit. Any one attribute might be 
taken as generic without regard to its actual extent in nature ; with this any other might be 
combined as a differentia without regard to the compatibility of the two as provided by the adap- 
tations of nature's laws. It is contended by some, that in the classifications which we actually 
make, we are guided by mere convenience, that we can make any attribute generic which we 
please, provided it be more extensive than its differentia in its actual prevalence, but that there 
are no such things as real genera and species ; the concepts having no meaning in such an 
application. Now if we assume that there are no affinities or adaptations in properties and laws, 
no ends to which the powers of nature are adapted, and which are designed to be permanent, 
this view is correct. But the moment we assume that such adaptations exist, and that they 
can be discovered, as well as the ends which they subserve, then the belief in permanent classes 
is justified and explained. Every class of beings which are grouped by relations and affinities 
that involve some obvious adaptations of a permanent character, and imply obvious ends with 
respect to known powers and forces, or even with respect to the mind's sense of order, beauty, 
or perfection, is pronounced a real class, as distinguished from those chance and fantastic 
groupings which indicate neither. 

It is notorious, that in the lower and inorganic structures, the physical agencies and laws 
are the most obvious, while in the regions of organic existence, the higher we ascend, we dis- 
cern more and more of the relations of adaptation. This explains why it is difficult for natu- 
ralists to find the so-called real genera and species in the mineral kingdom ; why it is more 
difficult to determine the species of plants than the species of animals, and why among animals 
the species of the higher are more easily determined than are those of the lower. 

in the definition § 62 ^ ( c Tnis relation is essential to an intelligible concep- 
of an individual. t i ou an( j definition of an individual. 



§ 629. DESIGN OR FINAL CAUSE. 609 

The term individual can scarcely be denned by physical or mathematical relation! 
alone. One individual atom may, indeed, be distinguished from another by the place it occu« 
pies at any moment of time, by the forces it exerts, and the laws which it obeys. But another 
atom, occupying the same space at the same time, exerting the same force, and obeying the 
same laws, could, so far as every one of these properties are concerned, be substituted for 
this. Any one of the myriads of millions of molecules might take the place of any other. 
But if each is considered as having some destiny to fulfil, some end to which it is adapted, 
that end defines its individuality. It may not be necessary to assert that each separate atom 
is unlike every other, and so is a distinct monad; according to the doctrine of Leibnitz that 
no two monads can be exactly alike. Tt may be sufficient to hold, that no other can take ita 
place in connection with every other without defeating the ends of creation, for then each 
atom attains relations which distinguish it as a separate individual. Much more does every 
mass of inorganic matter, whether it is piled into a heap, concreted into a rock, or poured 
forth as water. Still more strikingly does every crystal, by seeming to strive towards a special 
form establish itself as an individual. In a higher sense is every plant an individual, as it 
gathers in from the earth, the air, and water, all which it requires for the end for which it 
strives in growth, development, and reproduction. The animal is seen to be an individual more 
emphatically, as it is furnished with instincts that prompt it to those activities which have for 
their end its preservation and well-being, as well as that intelligent capacity, which in many 
species, as the fox, the dog, the rat, and the elephant, recognizes the fitness of certain actions 
to a desired purpose. Man is an individual in the highest sense, because he can distinctly 
propose to himself the end of his being and actions through the prudence which looks out 
for private good and the morality which finds its life by losing it in disinterested love ; by the 
science which interprets the universe in its laws and adaptations ; and in that religion that 
mirrors the glory of the Creator whom he worships. 

§ 628. id.) The principle is of the greatest value as a crite- 

As a criterion of °, « . i i n • i Tm -. • • 

truth and a rule rion oi truth and a rule oi certitude. When skepticism 
suggests that every principle may be questioned, and every 
observation of fact maybe mistaken; that the objective creation may be a 
shifting phantasmagoria, and the subjective mind but a lying glass of 
opinion; then the thought of the inconceivable non-adaptation of such a 
universe to any rational end even of knowledge, restores our confidence 
in the testimony of the senses, the experiences of consciousness, and the 
inductions of reason. We try all these by one another, and by the tests 
which experience and science have discovered, but we trust them at last, 
when they conspire to ends that are worthy of rational order in a universe 
adapted to be known by a being who is manifestly designed to know, and 
to confide in his knowledge when properly tried and proved. 
Applied m geo- § 629 « 2 « I n toe Mathematics even, the presence of this- re- 
Srfctfn and lation is often recognized. 

deduction. j n p Ure geometry it may be applied more frequently than 

would be anticipated. The circle is adapted to prove a great variety of 
theorems, and to solve many problems, as is manifest in any treatise on 
geometry. If we are required to construct two triangles on the same 
base, the angles of which at the apex of each shall be right angles, it can 
readily be done by describing a half-circle on this line as a diameter, and 
any number of triangles can at once be drawn so as to fulfil the required 
39 



610 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §630. 

conditions. We discern in a portion of space bounded by a half-circle, 
the capacity or adaptation, that waited long to be discerned ; i. e. the 
means adapted to an important end. 

In a similar way, by a skilful construction of squares, parallelograms, and triangles, it 
may be demonstrated that the squares on the legs of a right-angled triangle are equal to the 
square upon its hypothenuse. Indeed, the number of these possible adaptations in the vari- 
ous figures which may be constructed in space to solve and prove problems and theorems, is 
well-nigh incomputible, as is manifest from the constant progress of geometrical science. The 
invention of the geometer is constantly tasked in efforts to hit upon the requisite construc- 
tions, and to draw the auxiliary lines which are needed to enable him to reach the end which he 
proposes. The relations of pure number open as wide a field of inherent fitnesses to serve the 
ends of the student. It is upon the faith that additional adaptations remain to be discovered 
that the mathematician prosecutes his inventive work of discovery. 

The adaptations of the mathematics to the service of physics are if possible 
In applied geo- st *^ more striking. No projectile was ever thrown in an exact parabola 
metry. but the theory of this curve is adapted to explain the direction and motion 

of every body that is launched into the atmosphere. The theory of the lines 
in which bodies tend to move, and the rates in which bodies, when impelled, move in fact, is 
adapted to regulate the mechanics of bodies as they fall to the earth, and the motions of the 
orbs which revolve in the heavens. It also explains the phenomena of the pressure of fluids. 
The relations of number solve the mystery of chemical combinations, and explain the sym- 
metry of agreeable forms and the harmony of musical sounds. They enable us to discern a 
common law in the arrangement of the leaves upon the stem of every tree, and in the placing 
of the planets along the lines which stretch out from the sun. 

On the first thought, it would seem that in extension and 
in applied num- num ] :>er j t W0lu d \> e imposible to find so great a variety of 

possible adaptations. But on reflection, we find that their 
capacity of multiform application is the only key to the perfection of the 
sciences of matter and the reduction of its forces to unvarying laws. 

We have urged that the belief in final cause must be intuitive, because 
we could not otherwise confide in the axioms of induction. But we see 
in the provision for the possibility of mathematical science, and of its uni- 
versal application to material phenomena as the indispensable condition 
of their laws, another example of design where we had least expected its 
manifestation, viz. in those time and space relations which render the 
mathematics possible. 

Applied in geoi- § 63 °- 3 - Geology and Paleontology both assume the truth 
ogy, etc. an( j applicability of the principle of final cause. 

Geology was at first content to explain the formation of the crust of the globe by analyzing 
its parts into their constituent elements, and recording the order in which the rocks had been 
compacted and broken down, and the strata had been formed and deposited. In these investi- 
gations it proceeded as a science of observation, watching and recording the operations of the 
forces of nature according to laws already ascertained. 

But, aided by paleontology, geology has proposed to itself a higher problem, and con- 
templated facts under more elevated relations. It has traced a plan and order of development 
restiDg on the assumption of a series of ends subordinated to one another, and terminating in 



§632 DESIGN OR FINAL CAUSE. 611 

a habitation equally adapted to man's higher and lower nature. It has ventured to recall thft 
successive phases of organic life by reproducing extinct species of plants and animals amid the 
lakes, marshes and jungles in which they sported and from which they subsisted, and to ar- 
range these phases in the order of time and of a more and more perfect development. The 
assumption which directed these bold essays and enabled the observer successfully to apply 
the hints furnished by the facts supplied, is, that an order of fitness and progress has been fol 
lowed from the first, that each epoch has prepared the way for the next succeeding ; the adapta 
tions of each being complete in animals, plants, and scenery. Following the same clue, 
this science has found in each previous epoch not merely the materials of the one which suc- 
ceeded, but that each represents a less perfect form of life than that which follows it. This 
series terminates with man, who represents the highest type of life and shows that he is the 
end for which all others are designed, by the fact that he alone can comprehend the im- 
port of the plan and recognize the relations of the parts to the whole and of the whole to 
himself. 

It is by the intuitive belief that adaptation rules the universe, 
SyS^ r . tance and the expectation that its special relations may be dis- 
covered, that geology has reared its imposing structures, with 
the aid of here and there a fossil — structures which could never have been 
reared except for this foundation to support and give order to these mate- 
rials of fact and experience, — without which assumption they would de- 
serve to be viewed as a day-dream, or a series of brilliant scenes from 
fairy-land. Geology, by the very aims which it proposes, and the splendid 
results which it has achieved, gives its tacit yet fervent assent to the 
original authority of the intuition of final cause. 

§631. 4. Philosophical Geography gives a similar testimony. This science, as 

Applied in phil- conceived and perfected by Ritter, takes the earth where geology leaves it, 

osophical geog- 

raphy and shows how each continent and country was fitted for the part which it has 

played in the world's history, by its structure, surface, soil, and climate, by its 
mountain-barriers to repel, and its coasts and harbors to invite, by its river-systems to 
bind remoter portions, or its insular situation to make defence easy. It shows that every part 
of the earth was not only adapted from the first to receive and develop the race which was 
allotted to it, and to become the scene of the events which have made it memorable, but to 
transmit the results of these achievements to neighboring countries and other races, and 
even to transfer them to remote parts of the earth and a later and better civilization. By 
referring intellectual and moral influences to favoring physical conditions, it enables us 
to find an adaptation to important moral results, even in the material arrangements of the 
earth. 

§ 632. 5. Comparative Anatomy rests upon the same intuition. It would have 

Adapted to com- no meaning, as it could have no truth .without it. It is a science of similar 

parative anato- . . . /.., «■,.„„ 

my. adaptations, not only of organs to functions, but of analogies of form and 

feature and inner structure to the completeness of a progressive plan, and 
even to the achievement of an aesthetic effect and the expression of an aesthetic import. It con- 
nects the fin of the fish, the arm of the man, and the wing of the bird, not merely by their 
adaptations to similar uses, but by the similar relations which they hold to the skeleton or 
frame, regarded as framed after an ideal type. It arranges all living beings in order, as each 
is adapted to a place in the series or system, by the greater or less perfection of its structure 
or development. It discovers that man himself gqes through each step in the series, and 
represents in his progress the history and order of that whole which he both crowns and 



612 THE HUHAJST INTELLECT. §633. 

completes, and in which, with reflective interpretation, he himself reads the arrangements of a 
rational Artist. 

Give this science a bone, and it will draw or model the animal, tell you how large he was, 
how formed, on what he lived, what were his habits and disposition, what the length of his 
afe, — and all because it reads the adaptations that gather and cluster around this fragment 
of the skeleton, which except as thus interpreted were only a broken and abraded fossil. 

Applied to phy- § 633. 6. Iii Physiology, special and general, similar relations 
aniSstructSe are m °re numerous and manifest. The departments of ani- 
generally. ma j an( ^ ve g e table life abound, or rather overflow with ex- 

amples of fitness and adjustment. The nicer the analysis of elements 
and of organs, and the more subtle the detection of offices and func- 
tions, so much the more exquisite are the discerned relations of adaptation 
of each to each. Not only is there seen a fitness of one organ to another, 
as of the lungs to the heart, and to the common end of all, but there is a 
fitness of every organ to the element in and by which it acts, as of the 
lungs to the air and of the eye to the light. The more we learn of the 
structure of the one and of the properties of the other, the nicer are the 
adaptations which we discern between the two. 

The adaptations of the organs to the disposition and destiny of the animal, are, 
In its adaptation .„ . , .,, . _ ,. , -.*,.-,, 

to the disposition if possible, still more interesting. In this case, the end to which the structure 

the^ animal. nS °^ tne bodily organs is adjusted, is as yet non-existent, and the uses to which it 
is to be applied are not apparent till the animal has passed several stages of 
development, and perhaps has assumed two or three lower forms of being. If we examine the 
eye of the hawk, the owl, the cat, and the mole, we find that in them all, the form of the pupil, 
the capacity for contraction and enlargement, the length and the range of vision, as well as the 
power of the optic nerve, are all specially adjusted with reference to the prey which each is des- 
tined to seek, and to the methods and facilities by which it must secure it. These again are 
adapted to the impulses and dispositions of the animals, so far as these prompt them to the 
special acts to which the eyes are adjusted. Some animals exist in two or three forms of being, 
as the caterpillar, the chrysalis, and the butterfly ; and it is noticed that with the sphere of 
existence belonging to each, there is a similar adaptation of every part of the inmost structure 
to the still more interior disposition and instincts. So that in the being who begins to be, there- 
are present not merely existing endowments fitted to one another and the sphere of their ac- 
tivity, but undeveloped capacities in the same variety and completeness, of their fitness to a 
sphere and to functions as yet undeveloped and not even conjectured by man. 

In the animal frame there is protection against the injury of any portion 
I n protection to which the structure or habits of life open any special exposure. Thus the 
andeiposiri^ 7 brain is defended by the thickness and form of the skull, from violent blows, 
and from jar or concussion by a series of elastic cartilages ; — thus also the sub- 
stance of several organs is specially insensible because exposed to specially trying usage. The 
animals who are destined to fight and to live in special danger, are furnished not only with 
weapons of attack, but with an armor of defence, or if armor is not provided them, swiftness 
and dexterity are supplied in its place. 

The adaptations of the frame of man to the functions and uses of the 
rational soul, are still more striking ; but we here approach, if we do not 
cross, the line which divides physiology from Anthropology. 



§634. DESIGN OE FINAL CAUSE. 613 

§ 634. 7. In Anthropology we trace these higher adaptations, 
ttSopofogy. an " The human hand does not differ more strikingly from the 

hand of the monkey than the mind of the monkey from the 
mind of man. The mind of man has endeavored to discover and combine 
the powers of nature, and to devise the appliances of art. Whatever 
the mind has prompted the hand to construct, the hand has been able 
to frame, either through the seemingly exhaustless versatility of its flexible 
organism, or by the tools and machinery with which it has contrived to 
supplement its powers. So wonderful has been this service, that it has been 
questioned, whether the human intellect or the human hand has been the 
most conspicuous in shaping human destiny and in developing human his- 
tory. The hand has also by the economy of nature been fitted to be the 
medium of conveying varied intellectual and emotional expression to the 
intellect and heart, which have been as mysteriously fitted to receive and 
interpret its indications. The hand invites and repels, commands and 
forbids, soothes and enrages. It appeases with its gentle waving, and 
smites with ferocious energy. It adores with the uplifted arm, it 
blesses with the outspread palm ; it blasphemes with aimless and impotent 
motions, and curses with its downward stroke. 

But there is no adaptation of the mind and body that gives to both united an 
In the provisions . , . , „ . , „ . ;. ,, , 

for and the ca- interest which at once so fascinates and baffles our prymg scrutiny, as that 

eua^e! 8 ° f lan exhibited in the agency of both in the production, use, and development 

of language. There are two conditions of language, the bodily and the mental. 

The bodily are also two, the mouth and the ear, to which the hand and the eye are accessory. If 

the vocal organs are imperfect or lamed, there can be no speech. If the ear is closed or disabled, 

the speech cannot be received, and there can be no language. But the mind must also furnish 

its material through its required capacities and development. Language is impossible until 

the mind observes and generalizes and affirms. In other words, the mind must first think the 

material and spiritual universe with which it comes in contact into the thought-world which its 

powers and laws fit it to create, before it can give to it expression by language. There must 

also be awakened the impulse to speak, and with it there must be called into action the capacity 

to speak. Man does not invent language under the strong desire to communicate, any more 

than he invents walking under the desire to go from one place to another. He finds himself 

walking under an adaptation of his limbs which is manifested by their actual use, which use is 

also perfected and trained. In the same way he finds himself talking, i. e., using bodily 

sounds to express and impart thoughts and feelings, under an impulse and by an adaptation of the 

body to the soul which is more striking. This adaptation of the vocal and the spiritual to each 

other, and of the possible elaboration of the one to the possible refinement of the other, quite 

go beyond the observed fitness of the eye to the light, or of the ear to the agent of sound. The 

materials adjusted to one another are in their nature most diverse, being parted by the wide 

chasm which seems to divide matter and spirit ; and yet in the functions of matter as organized 

for speech, there are dormant capacities for the service of the as yet undeveloped attainments 

of spirit. These relations do not exhaust all the adaptations which are brought to light by the 

unfolding of language. Not only are these two parts of the complex body and soul fitted to 

expand side by side with one another, but the expression of thought in language reacts with 

wondrous energy on the development and refinement of thought itself, so that it is not only true 

that the developed thought finds itself able to employ language in its service, but it is also true 



614 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 035. 

that the thought in order to be developed, must express itself in langnage. Man not only 
speaks because he thinks, but he speaks that he may think, i. e., think with clearness, preci- 
sion and progress. The two are not merely so adapted that the one can expand side by side 
with the other, but it is difficult to say which is the most dependent on the other. 

There is another class of adaptations which here present themselves. Man is 

Relations of Ian- ^ tte d for society, and in society only finds his natural sphere. But society is 

guage to society, possible only through language. The complicated and refined adjustments of 

matter and spirit which find their proximate end in language, reach still further 

in their remoter adaptations to man's social existence and well-being. 

The celebrated Galen says, in his treatise concerning the human body, that by the variety and 
accordant action of its adjustments, it seems to utter an anthem of praise to its maker. But 
the philosopher who reflects on the mystery of human language, in the subtlety of the ele- 
ments involved, the variety of the conjunctions, the delicacy of the structure, and its capacity 
for growth and development ; especially if he watches the feeble beginnings of such splendid 
promise in the lispings of infancy, would find a new meaning in the familiar words " Out of the 
mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise." 

§ 635. 8. In Psychology the occasions for final cause are 
^ychofogy? to Hiore frequent and pressing than in either physiology or 
anthropology. The human soul is one, and hence in 
certain aspects and relations it must be viewed as a single force. But its 
modes of action are various, as are also the conditions of its activity, giv- 
ing products that are distinguished in consciousness. They are also dis- 
cerned as similar in their properties, in the occasions of their production 
and the laws of their activity. In this way, we apply the relation of 
efficient causation to explain the phenomena and faculties of the soul. 

But it is often difficult for consciousness to analyze the oper- 
tanS^Sci- ations and products that are so closely entwined in our ex- 
perience, and to trace each product back to the separate germ 
from which it springs into life. The adaptations of these operations and 
products to one another, and to the manifest ends of the soul's culture and 
well-being are, however, often so obvious and remarkable, that they fre- 
quently settle questions that would otherwise remain unsolved. For exam- 
ple, in considering the acquired perceptions, it is uoticed that animals 
possess from the beginning, a capacity of judging of distance and size 
which man is forced to acquire by slow and painful effort. It is ques- 
tioned whether our observations in respect to this point can be trusted, 
whether there is not some error or oversight in the analysis of the phe- 
nomena. The consideration of the end to be accomplished by this ap- 
parently abnormal arrangement relieves the difficulty. Man, we observe, 
needs the discipline required by the slow process of acquiring what the 
animal knows (after the animal fashion of knowing) at the beginning. 
The consideration of adaptation removes the similar difficulties sug- 
gested by the question, * why the range of instinct is so much wider 
and more unerring in the lower animals than it is in man, the highest of 
all?' We assent to the truth, that the destiny and ends of the two 






§ 636. DESIGN OR FINAL CAUSE. 615 

are so diverse that we may reasonably accept the evidence which obser 
vation furnishes. 

We notice that the powers of observation, the so-called objective powers, are 
Explains the dif- developed at a period and with an energy and effect which are strikingly con> 
development. trasted with the slow and feeble unfolding of the rational and reflective. How 

this should be, we cannot so easily answer ; i. e., according to what law of 
efficient causation. There is no antecedent necessity in any power or law of nature or spirit, 
that requires such an order of development. But why, or for what end it is so, can be under- 
stood if we consider the purposes that are to be accomplished by furnishing the intellect 
iargely with materials before it is called to elaborate them, and by letting loose the soul in the 
freedom of spontaneous activity before it is schooled to the painful processes of reflective 
thought. The ends accomplished are not intellectual only. Those which respect man's social 
condition and his emotional and moral culture, should also be considered, and these are ever 
forcing themselves upon our attention. 

Above all, psychology acquaints us with the rational faculty 
the rational fac- as that pre-eminent power which proposes ends and devises 

ulty is supreme. . 

means for their accomplishment. It acknowledges that this 
is the highest of the intellectual powers, that it is lawfully supreme, that 
in the service of this power we investigate causes and determine laws in 
order that we may attain some end or direct the result to some noble or 
useful application. In the subjection and adaptation of the lower to this 
highest power it finds confirmation of the propriety of assuming the 
relation of adaptation in all our interpretations of nature. If "on the 
earth there is nothing great but man, and in man, there is nothing great 
but mind," it is emphatically true that in the mind there is nothing great 
but the reason which proposes and discovers ends, and is itself an end 
to the lower actings of the intellect. 

§ 636. (9.) Ethics, the science of duty, which is so closely 
s^edm a eth£" allied to, if it is not a department of psychology, is founded 

entirely upon the intuition in question. Indeed, that ethics 
should be made a science, it is necessary to assume that the relation of 
adaptation is intuitively known. Its subject matter is derived from the 
ends of human existence and human activity. The comprehensive and 
fundamental question which it asks, is, for what kind of action is the hu- 
man soul adapted by its constitution, and what must man be and do to 
fulfil this end ? Whatever be the language in which this question is 
phrased, and whatever the answer which it receives, it rests on the single 
assumption that man is fitted for one kind of action rather than for another, 
and that the action for which he is fitted is right, while the action for 
which he is not fitted is wrong. It asks, how shall these adaptations be 
discerned ? By what faculty or capacity, one or more, are they discerned 
and responded to ? What are the tests or criteria by which they are dis- 
tinguished ? What external actions or duties must we perform in order 
most effectually to fulfil these ends ? 

Corresponding to the power of apprehending duty, is the faculty of 



616 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §638, 

will or choice qualifying man to fulfil the end of his being. The existence 
of this power, its importance to human development and responsibility, the 
necessity that it should be defended in its integrity, explain the necessity 
of moral trial, and the possibility of moral evil; under the one relation of the 
ends which the possession of this power and the exposures which it in- 
volves are adapted to fulfil. 

The adaptations with which ethics has to do, are chiefly internal, and suppose 

The adaptations a spiritual organism in the soul — a svstem of internal adaptations in the sev- 
cnieny psychi- r 

cal. eral powers with which it is endowed, which indicate our duties and our obliga- 

tions. These all exist for moral perfection. To this the soul is adapted and 
to it it tends and is impelled. Without this intuition and faith in its truth, ethics can have no 
meaning and duty no authority. If reason as proposing ends is the highest ruling power in 
man, then the reason, when it discovers and proposes the highest moral ends, exercises its lof- 
tiest function, and reigns sovereign over the inner and outer world by a self-justified authority. 

§ 637. 10. In Theology, or the science of God, whether natu- 
tffiSgy! 011 t0 ra ^ or revealed, this principle is of supreme importance. The 

most of the so-called demonstrations of the being of God, find 
their material or grounds of proof in the indications of design that are 
furnished in the material and spiritual universe. 

These arguments are usually stated somewhat thus: Design proves or implies 
tlfeJDMneexS a designer ; The universe abounds in design ; Therefore the universe implies 
pnce in its usual r proves a designer. Or, order and adaptation imply a designer ; The uni- 
verse abounds in order and adaptation ; Therefore a designer exists. 

The major premise in this argument is obviously assumed or received as d priori. The minor 
is a statement of fact grounded on observation or induction. Those who employ it would not 
accept the view for which we contend, that the belief that adaptation prevails throughout the 
zmiverse is a first truth or axiom of thought. They rest their belief upon observation, and 
they search through the universe to discover instances of the presence of this relation. Hav- 
ing observed a sufficient number, they gather them into a result by induction, and then apply 
the proposition which expresses them as the minor premise of their syllogism. 

We have sought to prove that the proposition affirming final cause is a first principle or 
intuitive truth ; that it is not in any sense dependent on observation, but is an original and 
necessary belief or category ; that so far from being derived from induction, it is the necessary 
ground on which induction itself must rest for its validity and application. 

It is an interesting question, How does this doctrine stand related to 
the knowledge of God and the belief in his existence and attributes ? We 
find in point of fact, that it has opened the way for speculative inquiry 
which has resulted in a great variety of diverse opinions. 
Two classes of § 638 - These diversities of opinion may all be grouped in two 
spect°to S tne lit fading classes or divisions, according as the adherents of each 
ThefirtfrSecS re J ect or accept the belief of a personal God. The one class 
personality. believe in design as an immanent force, which does not in- 
volve a relation to any thing beyond the object itself. They fully accept 
the truth that design rules throughout nature. They find examples of 
the relation of final cause everywhere present. But they insist that these 



§639. DESIGN OE FINAL CAUSE. Gil 

do not necessarily carry the thoughts out of nature. Final cause or de- 
sign is a force in nature itself, being immanent in each separate object, or 
in all existing objects, taken as an organism or whole of parts mutually 
related and connected. 

For example : the vine growing in the dark corner of a cellar, follows after the light by 
a tendency toward the condition of its well-being, in obedience to whose impulses it acts under 
the law of design which is within the vine itself. In a similar way the vital force organizes 
the animal structure, anticipating by an immanent adaptation in the form, material, and func- 
tional capacity of each organ, the end which it actually reaches in the fully developed indi- 
vidual by itself and in the individual as related to the species. So the bird builds its nest 
under the same law of immanent adaptation of its tendencies towards the end which the neces- 
sities and nature of the bird require. Under the working of the same law, the bee moulds its 
cell and its comb, and the beaver constructs its dam and its double house. So, under a simi- 
lar immanent force acting as a law to all its working, has the universe developed itself through 
its successive phases in the several geologic periods, involving the production of the 
varied forms of animal and vegetable life till it has reached the end to which it has all the while 
oeen tending, viz., the production of self-conscious and rational man, who is an end to himself 
and nature, and who can interpret the mutual adaptations of both. 

Those who hold this doctrine, concede that adaptation prevails in nature, and must be 
assumed to explain its powers and operations ; also, that it works all the while as though a 
personal mind had contrived these ends and the relations which they involve, and also con- 
tinued to direct them. But they urge that we are not forced to ascribe this adaptation to a 
personal being, but may refer it to an impersonal, unconscious, unthinking force, as blind 
and unintelligent as the efficient forces that act by mechanical laws. 

8 639. The second class contend that the necessary correlate 

The second ac- .. .... «t*-i • 

eeptsa personal to adaptation is a designing mind : Adaptation is the objec- 
tive relation to which thought is an essential supplement : 
Adaptation does not prove or indicate design, but it logically implies it : 
If, therefore, the adaptation is real, so is the designing mind. In assum- 
ing the one by an d, priori necessity, you must also assume the other. 
The belief in adapted things both logically and really carries with itself 
the belief in adapting thought and an adaptive thinker. The mind need 
not necessarily think of the two at the same instant, or in the same con- 
nection. The attention may be so concentrated upon the adaptation 
objectively considered, its ingenuity, the variety of the means employed, 
the intricacy and order of the combinations required, that it does not in 
thought refer to the correlate, but this fact does not prove that it is not 
necessarily involved. For example : in a machine of human devising, an 
ingenious mind can discern very many adaptations, without adverting to 
the mind which produced them, or distinctly recognizing the fact that it 
proceeded from any thought. But as soon as it raises the question and 
reflects on the relation it believes the fact. 

It may be said in the way of objection, that when we reflect on the adapta- 
tions of nature, we do not, as in the instance of a human machine, refer thesa 
jec ions. adaptations to a thinking mind, but resolve them into many intervening im- 

personal agencies, and reach the divine mind only by the mind's weariness in 



618 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §639. 

going through an unending series, or its want of philosophic courage in making thi series to 
return upon itself, so as to make the universe a completed cycle — the absolute — an organism 
of which every part and the whole are mutually end and means. 

To this it may be replied, that it is true that the mind does not pass in 
thought directly to the divine agency, but for the sole reason that it learns 
by observation and experience that other agencies are interposed involving 
other adaptations, which widen the range of its thinking and enlarge its con- 
ception of the organism itself. It does not refuse to allow the series of successively adapted 
objects to return upon itself because it lacks the courage to think the absolute, but because tb*» 
conception of an absolute, consisting of adapted elements without thought or design is irra 
tional, and of course unthinkable and unbelievable. It accepts the conception and the fact 
of an absolute with all its mystery, but it is an absolute that is completed and made perfect 
by supplementing objective adaptations by subjective thought. 

, . , If the mind were not carried from one relation to another of objective fitness, 
Intermediate ,,-,.,-,■,. -, n ■, ■..,-, I 

agencies do not and thus detained and diverted from the necessary correlate, it would proceed 

disprove person- directly to the designing mind,— the intelligent originator. Such is the faith 
of children. This also is the faith of those races of men who have not attained 
to the knowledge of the general forces and the undeviating laws of nature. Such believe that 
ingenuity supposes intelligence, and find no difficulty in believing in the direct energy of a 
superior intelligence, even while they hold to the action of the few second causes which their 
limited experience of nature has enabled them to generalize. This may be called superstition, 
it is true, but it is really superstition so far only as it directs its faith to mistaken objects or 
overlooks the agency of intermediate forces. It is no error to refer adaptations to intel- 
ligence, however serious an error it may be to narrow the range of the fitnesses. What makes 
the superstition plausible and tenacious is the truth that intelligence is required. Not only 
would one ' rather believe all the fables of the Alcoran, ' as Bacon says, but it is more rational 
to believe them, than that " the universe is without a mind." To exclude or to deny this 
reference of these designs to such a mind, is the superstition of modern philosophy which so 
restricts the attention to the efficient causes which render adaptation possible and evident, 
as to fail to regard them under the higher relation. 

An example will illustrate the similarity and the difference between the application of this relation 
in the case of the savage, who ascribes a single instance of adaptation directly to a rational deviser, and 
tbe philosopher in the other, who sees it extend so widely and numerously over an immense field of effi- 
cient agencies that he questions whether to ascribe it to a rational spirit at all. "We take a plant, say the 
weed that is trodden under our feet, or the bud that is just starting in the nearest hedge. The plant is 
itself so abundant in adaptations, that regarding it by itself, we might say it was produced directly by a 
creating power ; but we discover that it was not so created but was evolved from a tiny seed. But the 
seed, to produce it, must depend upon the light and moisture, upon the sun and the earth, as co-agencies, 
in order that it may germinate and grow into a perfected plant. The seed in its turn was evolved from 
another plant, which was also evolved in a similar way and ripened from another plant by the aid of sun 
and air and earth. What if this is so 1 Are not the heat and light and moisture as really adapted to the 
several parts of the plant, as the organs of the plant in their functions are adapted to one another ? Are 
not all an organism, as truly, though not by so close and exclusive a connection, as are the constituents of the 
plant itself? Is not the whole series of the plants of a single species, with all the agencies which condition 
their coexistent and continuous life, as truly an organism of mutually adapted elements, as if a single in- 
dividual of a non-existent species had been created in the morning and had perished at night ? The dis- 
covery of additional conditions, though they stretch throughout the universe in space, or of efficient forces, 
though they extend in time through a long scries and are connected as parent and offspring, simply 
renders the structure more complex and its adaptations more various and interesting. 

The knowledge of efficient causes suffers the same enlargement and expansion 
Efficient causa- . 

tion consistent as the knowledge of final causes. The savage ascribes the effect directly to 

Seag^S 631 " its proximate efficient and goes no farther. He does not ask, he does not 

answer, whether this efficient is so related to other causes as to be itself an 

effect. Or if he soon learns that this is true on a limited scale and within a narrow range, he 



§640. SUBSTANCE AND ATTEIBUTE I MIND AND MATTER. 6 IS 

does not so extend his thoughts as to grasp the grand agencies of the universe, and see thai 
these operate after definite laws, and together constitute a comprehensive mechanism of 
mutually related causes and effects. But his belief in the relation is as real as is that of the 
philosopher notwithstanding that he applies it in a limited or superstitious way. It does not 
therefore follow that because the savage and the superstitious make a limited application of the 
principle of final cause the philosopher should not believe that it pervades the universe, and 
requires as its correlate a designing mind. 

The relation of § ^°* ^ke application of this principle in the service of 
efficient to final Natural Theology raises another question ; viz., What relation 
has efficient to final causation in the universe ? Does each lead 
us to its separate principle or agent, or do both united direct us to one ? 
Does the adapting agent simply take the efficient forces and laws of the 
universe as it finds them, and arranging them as best it may, bring out 
of them the wisest results to which its sagacity may adapt them, or does it 
also originate the forces which it arranges and combines ? The one view 
gives the eternity of matter, with its hindrances and limitations and 
possibilities of evil, making the Deity a Demiurgos or Plastic energy. 
The other makes the originator and the arranger to be the same power 
and mind. The one view is the cruder theism of Ancient Philosophy, the 
other the purer theism of the Jewish and Christian Scriptures. 

It would carry us too far from our appropriate theme to argue here 
the question between the two. The discussion of it belongs to Natural 
Theology. Psychology suggests the following solution. The purely 
Theistic theory is supported by the cardinal principle of all philosophizing 
which bids us provide the fewest agencies which solve a problem or ex- 
plain a^phenomenon. The theory is certainly conceivable, and the analogy 
of the human soul, which combines in itself —under limits — a creatine 
force and an adapting or designing force, gives the strongest possible 
testimony in its favor. 



CHAPTER VII. 



SUBSTANCE AND ATTRIBUTE : MIND AND MATTER. 

We return again to the relation of Substance and Attribute and its most important applications 
in the determination of our definitions of Mind and Matter and of Real and Phenomenal 
Being. The Relation itself in the abstract, we have already briefly explained under the 
Formal Categories, § 542. We have also in passing alluded to its applications to the 
objects of Sense-perception and of Consciousness,%$$ 165,6; 96. To do complete justice to 
it, however, we must first have considered the various classes of relations which are 
known as attributes of material and psychical beings. The Relation is so fundamental 



620 THE HUMAN" INTELLECT. §641. 

and so much discussed in Psychology and Philosophy, as imperatively to require a some- 
what extended discussion. 

S b Sed from § 641 - ^ n e various import of the concepts denoted by the 
the logical and WO rds should first be explained. The substance or substratum 

grammatical r 

subject. w ith which we have to do, is the Real substance or substra- 

tum, and as such should first of all be carefully distinguished from the 
logical substance or subject. A logical subject is any thing which is con- 
ceived iu thought as a substance with attributes, whether it does or does 
not exist in fact. Thus any abstractum can be treated in thought and de- 
scribed in language as though it had real being, and were endowed with 
real attributes. The concepts power, goodness, responsibility, representa- 
tion, republic, wages, wealth, or any other abstract notion, may be conceived 
in thought and treated in language as having properties or qualities which 
are affirmed of each as though it were a real being. Any object of thought, 
whatever it may be, which is made the subject of a mental affirmation or 
predication, is a logical subject. The attributes of a logical subject are 
predicated of it in the same forms of language as are the attributes of a 
real being. The subject itself in all its elements is, however, generalized 
from a reality, and can only be understood and interpreted by means of 
such reality and the elements or relations which such a reality involves. 

Real substance ought also to be distinguished from the grammatical subject. The gram- 
matical subject is any word which is used in a sentence as though it were a logical subject. As a 
logical subject is one of which attributes or properties are affirmed in thought, so a grammatical 
subject is one of which attributes are predicated in the forms of language. The grammatical 
and logical subject, as is well known, may in fact coincide or be separate from one another. 
Both presuppose the Heal or Metaphysical relation of substance and attribute. They are both 
imitations of it in thought or language, and derive all their meaning and force from this 
original. 

The Etymology § 642. The Etymology of the Terms is worth a moment's 
Kr^o^Sub- notice, so far as it may serve to explain any philosophical 
stance. theories and relieve any philosophical difficulties. The words 

substratum, substance, and subject, have a common derivation which lite- 
rally imports something standing or lying under, and implies that there 
is something placed above or upon it which may be removed. This sug- 
gests the impression that the attributes are superinduced upon the sub- 
stance, as folds or wrappings are thrown over or around a nucleus or core 
within. This prompts to the effort to lay off the covering, to separate the 
wrappings from that which they invest, to scale off the laminae or folds, 
and find the naked substance or substratum within or beneath, bare of all 
qualities and relations. The effort to lay aside the qualities in order to 
find the subject is soon discovered to be vain. It is as though one should 
cut down the trees in order to find the forest. It is found to be impossible 
to discover an actually-existing subject without attributes. The simplest 



§ 642. SUBSTANCE AND ATTEIBUTE : MIND AND MATTER. 621 

and barest object in the universe, that which in its nature is the most 
uninteresting and the most undistinguished — as the mote in a sunbeam, 
the minutest perceptible grain of sand, the atom or molecule which the 
physicist cannot perceive, but of which he learnedly discourses, the monad 
of which the metaphysician confidently speculates — must always be con- 
ceived as having place and form, and as involving the relations of exten- 
sion and force. But all these are attributes. The innermost nucleus or 
core of every material object is still possessed of form and properties, and 
is just as truly and necessarily a substance as the material object itself. 
If it is conceived by abstraction as a mental something, it must still 
occupy a portion of space by its power to attract and repel, i.e., it must 
still be conceived as substance and quality. If the substance is spiritual, 
it cannot be conceived except as endowed with certain capacities which 
constitute and define it. 

Etymology of ^ De ^y mo ^ogy and use of the terms attribute, quality, property. 
tv tr et? te? quali " an< ^- acc ^ eni d° not &i ye us an y greater satisfaction as to thd 
nature of the distinction. The term attribute simply direct! « 
the attention to the fact that we attribute to, or affirm of, a being, some ■ 
thing which we distinguish from itself; but what we distinguish or whaf< 
it is distinguished from, is in no way explained. Quality is a -term of 
classification merely, and signifies the being of a certain sort, withoun 
explaining how it comes to be of that sort. Property indicates, that whaii 
we thus attribute or affirm belongs peculiarly or properly to the being ov 
substance, and accident that it belongs to it occasionally. These different 
words are only different names for the same conception, as differently 
used. But their etymology or application throw no light upon the con- 
ception itself, or how it originates, or is distinguished from its correlate 
substance. 

We learn moreover that we can no more find an attribute without substance, than we can 
find a substance without attributes. We cannot separate length from something which ia 
long, nor color from something colored, nor thought from a thinking being, nor joy from a 
rejoicing being. The two conceptions are riever parted in the world of real being. They are 
not merely correlated by a logical relation, but they are always inseparably conjoined in actual 
existence. 

obscurity and § 643. This analysis may explain why philosophers have 
opinion in re- found so great difficulty in explaining the relation in ques- 
tion. rea tion, and have been so dissatisfied with their own conclu- 
sions. They have either been misled by the etymology of the terms to 
expect they should find more than they had warrant to seek for, or else 
they have confounded metaphysical substance with actually existing 
things. 

Locke observes, " We have no such clear idea at all and therefore signify nothing by 
Locke's view of the word substance, but only an uncertain supposition of we know not what." (B. I. c. 4, 
Substance and § 18.) And again, " Of substance we know not what it is but only a confused obscure one 
Attribute. f w h a t it does." (B. II. c. 13, § 19.) Again, " Not imagining how these simple ideas can 

subsist by themselves, we accustom ourselves to suppose some substratum wherein they 



622 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 643, 

do subsist and from •which they do result, which, therefore, we call substance." (II. c. 23, § 1.) " The idea 
of pure substance in general, is only a supposition of we know not what support of such qualities as are 
capable of producing simple ideas in us." (23, § 2.) And yet Locke grounds the supposition in question 
on « the repugnancy to our conceptions that modes and accidents should subsist by themselves,' i. e., <l that 
we cannot conceive how simple ideas of sensible qualities should subsist alone, and therefore, we suppose 
them to exist in, and to be supported by, some common subject ; which support we denote by the name 
substance." (23, §4.) 

Hume says, " The idea of a substance as well as that of a mode, is nothing but a collec- 
tion of simple ideas, that are united by the imagination and have a particular name 
Views of Hume, assigned them, by which we are able to recall, either to ourselves or others, that collec- 
tion. But the difference between these ideas consists in this, that the particular quali- 
ties which form a substance are commonly referred to an unknown something, in which 
they are supposed to inhere ; or granting this fiction should not take place, are at least supposed to be 
closely and inseparably connected by the relations of contiguity and causation." Hum. Nat. P. I. § 6. 

Reid says, " I perceive in a billiard-ball, figure, color, and motion, but the ball is not 
figure, nor is it color, nor motion, nor all these taken together ; it is something that 
Of Reid. has figure, and color, and motion. This is a dictate of nature and the belief of all man- 

kind. As to the nature of this something, I am afraid we can give little account of it, 
but that it has the qualities which our senses discover." Essays on Int. Powers, Ess. 
I.e. 19. 

But how do we know that they are qualities, and cannot exist without a subject ? To this Reid replies, 
" I confess I cannot explain how we know that they cannot exist without a subject any more than I can 
explain how we know that they exist. "We have the information of nature for their existence, and I think 
we have the information of nature that they are qualities." Id. Cf. Ess. I. c. 2 ; also, Ess. VI. c. 6, § 6. 
Kant gives the following as the result of his critical inquiry : The Ding an sich (the 
thing by itself) is simply unattainable by human research, and yet the philosopher is 
Of Kant. doomed to follow after it over bush and brier, as after an ignis fatuus, which he never 

can reach. The substance without attributes can neither in the world of matter nor in 
the world of spirit be actually discovered or laid hold of. The distinction is made by 
the mind alone. The substance which underlies the attributes and is manifested through activities in 
phenomena, is only discerned in thought. It is a Noumenon, or thought object, as distinguished from the 
Phenomenon, or object known to sense and consciousness. The one is interpreted by the other. The au- 
thority of this distinction and of our belief in its validity is, however, with and for man alone. It is dis- 
cerned under a form of thinking which is indeed necessary to the human intellect, but of which we cannot 
assert or know that it corresponds to any objective reality. 

Whewell adopts in substance the theory of Kant, and yet combines with it a mode of 
speaking and of thought borrowed from Locke and Reid. " An apple which is red and 
Of Whewell. round and hard, is not merely redness and roundness and hardness ; these circum- 

stances may all alter while the apple remains the same apple. Behind or under these 
appearances which we see, we conceive something of which we think ; or, to use the 
metaphor which obtained currency among the ancient philosophers, the attributes and qualities which we 
observe are supported by and inherent in something ; and this something is called a substratum or substance 
— that which stands beneath the apparent qualities and supports them." Hist. Scient. Ideas, vol. ii. p. 30. 
The terms ' conceive ' and ' thirile ' are used by "Whewell in a technical way, as equivalent to imposing upon 
the phenomena the " conceptions of the understanding" and " the forms of thought" in the Kantian sense, 
so that, in the meaning of that philosopher, the substance is a noumenon as distinguished from a phenome- 
non. But when he speaks of substances as behind or under these appearances, he adopts the views of Locke 
and Reid, although in the remainder of this very sentence he recognizes such a use of substance or sub- 
stratum as a "metaphor." 

§ 644. In order to avoid the confusion and embarrassment 

abstract; how into which philosophers have so generally fallen from con- 
defined. , r r .. ° J , .„ 
founding abstract and real or concrete substance, we will 

consider the two apart and somewhat more particularly than we have done 

already. 

I. Substance in the abstract. 

The concept substance is less general than that of simple being. Being 
has already been explained to be correlate to and coextensive with knowl- 
edge, inasmuch as it is applicable to every object that is, or that is con« 



§ 644. SUBSTANCE AND ATTRIBUTE I MIND AND MATTEE. 623 

ceived to be knowable or known. But every thing that is known is not 
only known to be, but is also known as related. Hence, with every act 
of knowledge, the concept of being as related, at once arises and becomes 
universally applicable to every object that is known. Certain of these 
relations may be used to distinguish, define and explain these knowable 
objects. The concept of being with relations so discerned and applied is 
the abstract concept of substance. It is not like the concept being, a sim- 
ple concept, but it is complex, and made up of the two elements being and 
related. It is more even than this. It is being distinguishable as a perma- 
nent sort or class by a complex of relations. 

II. Of attribute in tJie abstract. 

§ 645. The conception of attribute arises in a similar way. As 
fSact defined! soon as an object is discerned in a definite relation to another 

object, this relation can be affirmed of or attributed to this 
object. When one or more attributes can be applied to define or distin- 
guish, any one of these gives the generic conception of attribute, as 
used in this technical sense. Every relation by which an object is known 
or distinguished is an attribute in the largest and most abstract sense of 
the word. 

Whenever we think of a being as possibly, but not actually related or distinguished by its 
relations, we think of it as a substance without attributes. In the same manner, when we think 
of a real or possible relation, we may think of an attribute as such, without a substance. 
Now, there are as many kinds of attributes supposable as there are distinguishable kinds of 
relations. There are attributes of time and space with all the relations which these involve 
and render possible. There are attributes of causality and design. There are also as many 
kinds of substances as there are beings distinguishable in kind by combinations of relations. 
An individual substance is known only by the individual relations which it shares with no other. 
The substance is not, however, made up or constituted, by its relations. It is known in fact as 
a being holding relations. It is known in thought, by its relations or attributes. From this 
analysis it is manifest that the category of substance and attribute is not simple and original 
like the other categories which we have considered, but is complex and derived. Any 
one of these relations, when employed for the ends of recognition or description, for defini- 
tion or classification, for reasoning or explanation; in short, for knowledge of any sort, 
whether common or scientific, becomes an attribute. Any thing that is, when it is sufficiently 
permanent or oft-recurring to require to be known by attributes, is a substance. 

This analysis also explains the affinity between real substance and the logical and gram- 
matical subjects. All these are conceived to be objects of knowledge in some relation to 
one another, and hence are all conceived to be capable of attributes. The logical and gram- 
matical subjects are for the moment conceived and treated as real beings in real relations. 

The meaning or import of these concepts can only be explained and imaged by concrete 
or individual instances. As being is interpretable by any object known, and is explained 
to the mind by any act of knowing, so substance and attribute are explained by any com- 
pleted act of knowledge which apprehends or distinguishes any object by its relations. When 
the mind generalizes the object as thus apprehended by the mind, it knows what the concepts, 
substance and attribute signify in their most general imports. This may suffice for these 
concepts in the abstract. 



624 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §645. 

We will next consider them in the concrete, and inquire 

Substance and . ,....„, 

attribute in the whether this analysis is justified when it is applied to really 
existing agents and things. We take the abstract con- 
cepts already explained and defined — of substance as something knowable 
by its relations, and of attribute as one or more of these relations, — and 
proceed to apply them to the different kinds of actual substances and 
attributes. Or rather, by considering the concrete, we propose to test the 
correctness of x>ur definitions of substance and attribute in the abstract. 
We hope also in this way to clear up the difficulties and confusion which 
have been encountered in the various applications and interpretations of 
these terms. This examination will involve an inquiry as to the different 
senses in which these concepts are used and understood, and the terms 
which correspond to them, according to the subject-matter to which they 
are applied. 

There are three classes of objects-matter to which the category is most 
frequently applied, spiritual substances, corporeal substances, and mathemat- 
ical entities. Abstract ideas, or abstracta, follow the analogy of real beings, 
and so do grammatical subjects, as has already been explained. Mathe- 
matical entities do the same so far as this relation is concerned, as we 
have also explained at length. We shall consider the two first only, and 
begin with 

III. Mental or Spiritual substance. 
spiritual or §646. Here we encounter, at the outset, the objection ot 
Sance^miscon- difficulty that a mental or spiritual being cannot be a sub- 
ceived - stance at all. This difficulty is merely verbal. It is of purely 

casual association, and arises simply from the fact that the term is usually 
applied in a specific sense as implying material existence, and not in one 
more generic as equally appropriate to beings which are spiritual. Dis- 
missing this objection as merely verbal and superficial, we proceed to in- 
quire in what sense a spirit is a substance with attributes. It will be more 
satisfactory, also, if we consider, not spiritual substance in the largest ac- 
ceptance of the term, but in the form which it assumes as the human soul. 
With this we are familiar by our previous analysis, and are now prepared 
advantageously to ask and to answer what this analysis has taught us in 
respect to its attributes and its substance. 

To know, feel, The prominent attributes of the substance which we call the 
crusade 1 ' enTr^ human soul, are its capacities to know, to feel, and to will. 
& es - It is usually distinguished and defined by these. But to 

know, to feel, to will, are operations or modes of activity and suffering. 
They are energies which are simply causative of certain effects, or which 
involve energies that are causative. These three attributes obviously fall 
under the category or relation of causation, and are simply special ex- 
amples of its occurrence. 



§ 64V. SUBSTANCE AND ATTE1BUTE : MIND AKD MATTEK. 625 

What it is to know, to feel, and to will, we can only know by the conscious exercise or 

experience of these operations. The products of these operations are beings in the philoso* 

phieal meaning of the word, and in respect to them we affirm a cause which is that substanca 

which we call the soul. 

But we know more of the substance of the soul than that it is the cause or 

These referred recipient of those effects which we call its states. It is involved in conscious* 
to the ego as , , , 

cause. ness that the soul knows these acts and states to be its own ; i, e., to be caused 

or suffered by the individual ego, or self. What is known is the agent causing 
and suffering, as well as the effects. The soul under certain conditions and limitations is known 
itself to act and suffer. But the relations of the soul thus known do not take it out of the 
category of causation, but rather require more imperatively that this attribute should be refer- 
red to this very class. So true and striking is this that many have contended that the con- 
scious energy of the soul in knowing and in willing (in one or both) originates the conception 
and explains the belief of causation. 

The power of. the soul to be conscious, or consciously to know, is also a capacity for causal 
efficiency, and when attributed to the soul is attributed simply as one of its causal relations, 
known as the others by its exercise and its results. 

These states or products of the soul's causal activity, are transient and changing, but the 
ego h permanent and enduring. As the cause or recipient of these changes the soul is iden- 
tical with itself. They are diverse, the soul is one. The attributes require only the catego- 
ries of the soul which consciousness reveals of identity, diversity and time. 

§ 647. Besides the attributes of the soul which are revealed 

Unconscious . . . - . ■- . : _ 

psychical powers m consciousness, it is capable of acts or processes of which 

are causative. .. . -i /■» t t ai-i-i • • i 

it is conscious only 01 the results. All those spiritual capaci- 
ties which fit it to act in conjunction with the body in preparing or 
presenting to itself the objects of sense-perception are known only as 
effects of the joint action- of spiritual and corporeal causes. They are 
therefore only a peculiar species of causative attributes. 

The similar capacities of the soul to represent any object of previous 
experience whether subjective or objective, whether intellectual, emotional 
or voluntary, are causative attributes which are definitely and distinguish- 
ably known by their effects. Its presumed capacities to exist in other 
conditions of being, with or without a body and environed by another 
sphere, come under the same category. 

Of all these causative energies the conditions are in part furnished by the soul itself; as 
when memory, imagination, and thought act on the materials furnished for it by the previous 
action of the soul in acquisitive and intuitive knowledge. In respect to these conditions, 
the soul is dependent upon its own nature, for it is a being as well as a causative agent. For 
other conditions of its causative energies, it is dependent on the material world. Each of 
these classes of causal activities are exercised according to their appropriate laws. 

, § 648. Besides the relations of causation there are relations 

Attributes of " m a 

design in the oi design which pertain- to the soul. Ihese are conspicuous 
both in the relations of one power and act of the soul to 
another, and also in the relations of the soul to the external world and 
the body which connects it with that world. All of these relations are 
attributes of the soul, and some are so necessary to an adequate concep- 
40 



626 



THE HUMAN INTELLECT. 



648. 



tion of its nature as to deserve to be counted among its essential attri- 
butes. This suggests the distinction between these attributes as essential 
and non-essential. The essential attributes are peculiar in this, that 
they are necessary to the very conception of the soul as such, and so 
far are logically essential. They are also found actually present in a 
class of individual beings, which exist under the permanent laws or 
order of the universe, and are essential to the operation of its laws and 
the designs of its being. Other attributes are called properties not because 
they are less universal or necessary under the fixed constitution of things, 
nor because they are less inevitable and essential as causes to account for 
phenomena, but only because they are not required for the ends of logical 
knowledge to define and distinguish the soul from other kinds of 
being. 



As has already been said, when attributes are spoken of especially as belonging to a 
substance, it is the essential attributes which are intended; those which constitute and 
define a class or species and which are present in permanently existing individuals, as in the 
inorganic world, or are perpetually reproduced, as in the world of life. 

Besides these attributes which are common to all souls, and which are essen- 
Individual attri- tial to the logical conception of all, there are attributes or relations of each 
butesofthesoul. 1^^^^ gQ^ w hich are known andknowable by each individual to and 

of himself. Each individual ego is the subject and agent of his own acts and 
states. Those which are his own, he knows by intuition, as well as the ego which acts and 
supposes them. This ego is most conspicuously manifested in the will. Its interests and 
character constitute the ends and aims of individual activity. 

The inquirer for spiritual substance would say, perhaps, here is the substance 

How far the ego f the soul. Perhaps in this permanent ego as related to its diverse and 
the type of all , -, , , , ,..-,, 

substance. changing acts and products may be detected the real spiritual substance 

which is the origin and type of the various corporeal substances, which we 
invest with their appropriate attributes. On looking more closely, he finds that this ego is a 
being, though it is directly known in a way quite unique and peculiar. To know the ego 
is a being, is not to know it is a substance. That a substance must be a being all concede, but 
in order that it may be known also as a substance, it must be known in certain relations, and 
it is by its capacity to exist and be known in these relations that it is known also as a sub- 
stance. Those relations of the individual ego which are commonly recognized and by which 
it is distinguished and defined, are its capacities to do and to suffer, to know and attain its 
end or destiny. These are the attributes of this peculiar being, which as distinguished and 
defined by these is called spiritual substance. These attributes are all found in the Categories 
of Causation and Design. When to these we add its relations of Identity and Time we com- 
plete the cycle of its attributes. From this Induction we derive the following definition. 



Humans irituai § ®^' That Substance which ice call the human soicl, is an 
substance de- identical enduring self, capable of spiritual acts and states in 
'the succession of time, and adapted to certain ends for itself 
and the universe of being. The relation of substance and attribute asserted 
in this definition is that of a being on the one hand, of which on the other 
a variety of relations is affirmed, as of time, identity, causation and design. 



§650. SUBSTANCE AND ATTKIBUTE : MIND AND MATTEE. 625 

Of these relations, those which are especially prominent are the causative. 
Certain causa- These are its so-called Faculties, which are capacities for special and distin 
ai^ts^aculUe 6 " 8 g u i sna ble modes of causal activity. By these attributes it is adequatel} 

distinguished from other kinds of being. Even the human soul is effectually 
distinguished by these faculties from the other species of spiritual being. When the soul is 
thought or spoken of as a substance, it should be thought of as endowed with causal attributes, 
and by these can all spiritual substance be best defined. If the attempt is made to meas- 
ure the soul by the body, or to affirm of it relations or endowments which are like the 
corporeal, the mind either supplies the little that it knows by some gross or refined theory 
of materialism or falls into vague or fantastic imagery. This explains why the impression is 
tenaciously held that substance — i. e. definable being — must necessarily be hard and material, 
even when it is applied to spirit. But this impression, as we have seen, is not well founded. 

Mr. J. Stuart Mill., in his Examination of Sir William Hamilton'' s Philosophy, chap. xu\, 
Mr "Mill's con- ^as S iven a laborious explanation of our conception of the mind or soul, upon the prin- 
ception of the ciple of what he calls 'the Psychological Theory,'— which in reality signifies the Asso- 
Soul. ciational Psychology. He first resolves our belief that " the mind exists " into "the 

belief of a permanent possibility of its states." He then asserts that our belief in its 
existence when it is inactive, contains nothing more than " that my capability of feeling is not, in that in- 
terval, permanently destroyed." He then adds that the mind is defined " as nothing but the series of our 
sensations as they " actually " occur with the addition of infinite possibilities for their actual realization." 
Again, " the mind is but a series of feelings, or, as it has been called, a thread of consciousness, however 
supplemented by believed possibilities of consciousness." Again, he speaks of " the theory which resolves 
mind into a series of feelings, with a background of possibilities of feelings." Again, " if we speak of the 
mind as a series of feelings, we are obliged to complete the statement by calling it a series of feelings which 
is aioare of itself as past and future ; and we are reduced to the alternative of believing that the mind or 
Ego is something different from any series of feelings or possibilities of them, or of accepting the paradox 
that something which, ex hypothesi, is but a series of feelings, can be aware of itself as a series. The 
truth is that we are here face to face with that final inexplicability at which, as Sir "William Hamilton ob- 
serves, we inevitably arrive when we reach ultimate facts," etc. 

One scarcely knows which most to admire in these statements, the clearness of the perception of tho* 
difficulty which embarrasses the authors own theory, or the failure to observe that the difficulty originates 
Eolely ex hypothesi Milliana. The question is simply, what are the ultimate facts which are finally in- 
explicable ? Do they or do they not involve the recognition of the self-conscious ego, identical, existing in 
time, as Mill denies ; or " of a series of feelings aware of itself as past and future 1 " Is the conception 
cf the soul truly expressed when it is resolved into " permanent possibilities of sensation ; " <Jr by the asser- 
tion to it of Faculties, under the category of causation believed to be universal and necessary? Is "the 
tiackground of possibilities of feeling" and " of infinite possibilities for their actual realization" a happy 
Bubstitute for the assumption of design as necessary in order to explain our belief in the continued exist- 
ence of an agent, even though it is not consciously active ; and in its permanent adaptation to the forces 
of the universe which are the conditions of its existence and its activity 1 

IV. Material substance. 

§ 650. Every material substance is, like spiritual substance, a 
Scedefine S d. b " being discerned or discernible by intuitive or direct knowl- 
edge and also definable by a sufficient variety and number 
of relations to distinguish it from other beings. These relations are dis- 
cerned by thought, and exist between itself and other substances, material 
and spiritual. A material substance may be defined, a being occupying defi- 
nite limits in space, and productive of specific sensations in the sentient soul 
on occasion of which it is perceived or known to exist. 

First of all, it is related to space in trinal extension. It 

its trinai exten- m ight be urged that, in one sense, the spectrum cast by 

the camera on a screen, or the rainbow flung athwart a 

cloud are material substances, with only superficial or binal extension ; but 



628 



THE HUMAN INTELLECT. 



§650. 



material substance, in the ordinary sense, has threefold extension, or, as 
we say, extension in three dimensions. These, arranged in some form, 
are, as has been sufficiently explained, its indicia and evidences as far as 
they go, and essential to its very notion. 

Corporeal substance has a second relation to space, viz., that 
impenetrability, of space-occupying or space-filling. This is often called the 

solidity or impenetrability of matter, but should be carefully 
distinguished from that power of matter to awaken the sensation of hard- 
ness, which is also called solidity. The first is a relation to space which is 
tested and expressed by the application of motion. The second is the ca- 
pacity of the body to excite a specific sensation upon the pressure of touch. 
These relations of corporeal substance to space are all represented or 
generalized by means of motion or the movableness of body in three 
directions, as has already been explained, § 577. 

The third class of relations which belong to corporeal sub- 
sSie Se ua r iities en stance are its powers variously to affect, through the senses, 

the body as animated and ensouled, and also the soul itself 
as a sentient agent. Every material substance has power to produce 
certain so-called impressions on the so-called organs of sensation, i.e. upon 
the body as organized to receive these impressions. Of these effects the 
vibration of the tympanum, and the formation of the image on the retina, 
are sufficient examples. These may occur without sensation, as is mani- 
fest in cases of disease, of mental excitement, and of the use of anaesthetic 
agents. But the condition of these effects even, is a vitalized or living 
body. Consequent upon these are those effects upon the sensitive or sen- 
tient soul which are called sensations, or sensations proper. The condi- 
tion of the last is a body living and ensouled. In sensation, or rather, in 
the sense-element of the complex act called sense-perception, the soul is 
purely receptive or passive and the material substance is active: that is, it 
is causative of the various distinguishable effects which are known by ex- 
perience. Its various powers to produce these sensations are all compre- 
hended under the category or relation of causation. 



Can matter 
cause percep- 
tions as distin- 
guished from 
sensations ? 



Into this category of causative forces others bring the power claimed for matter to 
produce perceptions in the soul. According to their theory, every act or state of per- 
ception of material objects is an effect which is wrought upon the soul by the efficient 
causation of material substance, or -which, at the utmost, is the effect of the joint action 
of the two factors or co-efficient agents, viz., causative matter and causative mind. The 
first is the view of John Stuart Mill : *« A body, according to the received doctrine of modern metaphysi- 
cians, may be defined, the external cause to which we ascribe our sensations. When I see and touch a 
piece of gold, I am conscious of a sensation of a yellow color, and sensations of hardness and weight, and 
by varying the mode of handling, I may add to these sensations many others completely distinct from 
them. The sensations are all of which I am directly conscious ; but I consider them as produced by some- 
thing not only existing independently of my will but external to my bodily organs and to my mind. This 
external something I call a Body." Logic, I. c. 3, § 7. 

" Matter, then, may be defined a Permanent Possibility of Sensation. I affirm with confidence, that 
this conception of matter includes the whole meaning attached to it by the common world, apart front 
philosophical and sometimes from theological theories." Exam, of Hamilton's Phil, c. xi. 
Similar to this is the view of Dr. Thomas Brown. Lectures, 20-25. 






§652. SUBSTANCE AND ATTEIBUTE : MIND AND MATTEE. 621? 

The second view is held by Kant and in part countenanced "by Hamilton, and regards knowledge as 
the joint product of two causative agents, viz., body with its agencies upon sense giving the matter, and 
the mind with its constitution furnishing the forms of knowledge. This view, unlike the first, does not sink 
the mind into a mere recipient of the impressions caused by the body, but it makes the mind itself a joint 
cause of the effect ; holding the activity of the mind in knowing, to be coordinate with and similar to the 
causal activity of matter upon the senses. Kant carries this mistake to its worst possible extreme by 
suggesting that the constitution of the mind as a co-factor to the effect might also be changeable, and 
with it the nature of knowledge itself. Hamilton holds back from this conclusion, but seems often in 
part to sanction it when he insists that all knowledge is relative to our faculties and that many funda- 
mental relations are only necessary from tbe impotence of our powers, i. e., necessary to us only as we 
are human, and relatively to this human constitution. 



§ 651. It is serious error to class among the attributes of 
t^be^to^SE matter the capacity to be perceived or known. The possi- 
bility of being perceived is in itself no attribute of matter 
in the sense of causative power. To perceive is an act of the mind. 
The causative energy and the capacity which fits for it, both pertain to 
this mind alone. The matter, so far as perceived, acts neither upon the 
body nor the soul. The matter is, i e., exists, and is known to be. ISTor 
is it correct to say, that it is known only as the cause of the sensations 
which the soul suffers or receives ; making it to be known only as the 
unknown cause of a felt effect. We should rather say, it is known to be 
and known as causing these sensations, i. e., is known to be and to be caus- 
ally related, cf. § 49. 

In that complex state which we call sense-perception, in which the activity of the soul as 
knowing is blended with the passivity of the soul as sentient, we cannot indeed separate the 
object which is known from the state which is suffered, but that the two are diverse we know, 
and that objective reality belongs to the one and subjective transitoriness to the other, we are 
also certain. Space is a reality, and so are the spatial relations of the object known. The 
apprehension of being is conditioned by the presence of matter acting on the sensorium and 
the sentient mind. But neither the mind's state of knowing nor the object as known are the 
product of the causative powers of matter acting alone or in conjunction with other causative 
powers of the mind. To know is an act, and is simply to be certain that its object is, even 
though that object also is known to be acting on the agent which perceives or knows. 

Besides the relations of material substances to the animated and ensouled body, there is a 
class of relations which it holds to other bodies. These are its powers to produce effects in 
or upon them. They comprehend all the properties of matter whatever, whether mechanical, 
chemical, or organic, which have as yet been discovered, or which science may in future unfold. 
That all these attributes are comprehended under the causal relation is too obvious to need 
illustration or proof. 

8 652. Many of these are called not the attributes of matter. 

The so-called -f . , . „ 

properties of but simply its properties, for the reason that they are not 
required to define and distinguish it from other kinds of 
being. They are not involved in the essence of the notion matter. They 
are not revealed by the analysis of this notion, but are either superinduced 
upon its content by the processes of induction and observation, or are 
perhaps deduced from its original and essential constituents, or from what 
these constituents involve in the way of necessary inference when coupled 
with the enlarged knowledge repecting them which induction gives. 



630 



THE HUMAN INTELLECT. 



§653. 



The relations considered thus far are those of space and causation. 
The analysis has established our definition of material substance to be 
correct, viz., that it is a being having a definite form or outline, (involv- 
ing relations to space or other bodies existing in space,) occupying exclu- 
sively some portion of space, (involving space-relations,) and productive 
of specific sensations in the sentient soul on occasion of which it is known 
to be, {involving relations of causation). 



These attributes ^ * s f urtne r to De observed that this complex or collection of relations does 
distinguish and not constitute material substance. The so-called "collection of attributes" 
aot constitute which Locke, and Hume, and Brown, and J. Mill speak of, do not by their 
matter. union or unition make matter to become, substance; they simply indicate that 

it is a material substance. They are relations which define and distinguish it as such. They 
constitute its logical essence only. They make up the content of the complex notion called 
material substance. They constitute the concept which we affirm of all matter, but they do 
not constitute material substance itself. Even simple notions, as raZ and white, suppose the 
reality to be known which they generalize, and can only be interpreted by that real knowledge 
of their import which is obtained by sense-perception. The union of these constituents into 
a complex notion does not dispense with a similar reference to real knowledge. The same is 
true of the element being which is implied in such definition. Being, like every other simple 
notion, cannot be defined ; but it does not follow, as we have already seen, § 544, that it can- 
not be known and understood. To know and explain it, we need only refer to what we do 
and gain in every act of direct or real knowledge. By a reference to this experience, we ex- 
plain the meaning of the notion, and of the word. 

§ 653. A material substance has been defined as exclusively 
tion°by mSter!" occupying a portion of space. It is not required that this 

portion of space should be of any definite size or dimensions. 
A grain of sand is a material substance, so is a huge mass of sand-stone. 
So is a mass of water or the indefinitely expanded atmosphere. All that is 
required is, that the mass, be it greater or smaller, should be so fixed and 
held together in its parts as to occupy continuously their defined limits. 
The continuity of parts is of more importance than the continuity of de- 
finite outline. This continuity or coherence of parts is maintained in 
different substances by different agencies. The constituent parts may be 
held together by simple mechanical aggregation under the force of cohe- 
sive attraction. They may be held more closely by the polar force of 
crystalline arrangement. They may be united still more intimately under 
the laws of chemical affinity. They may be combined and assimilated 
into the forms and products of organic existence ; or the substance may 
be conceived as an ultimate molecule, or monadical cell. Every being, 
that is one and continuous, of whatever size, in whatever form, or held by 
whatever bond of union, is a material substance. 

A certain continuity in time or permanence is also required as a defining 
Permanence of characteristic of substance, or is implied in its definition. This integrity of 
Bpace-occupa- the whole is presumed as having continued and as likely to continue for 

some considerable period, or the being indicated would scarcely be called a 



t> 



§654. SUBSTANCE AND ATTEIBUTE : HIND AND MATTER. 63] 

substance. It certainly would not be worth noticing by defining attributes if it did not s& 
remain. There are certain chemical substances that only remain solid under extreme cold 
and pressure. Of these perhaps the most conspicuous is carbonic acid gas, which when 
made solid has definite and peculiar attributes. Were it not that it can be constantly produced 
from materials and by processes within the reach of every chemist, it would not be known or 
named at all. What this so-called substance is to its constituent elements and laws, every 
organic being is to the agencies that sustain it in its continued existence and functions 
Whether it be the ephemeris that exists for an hour or the elephant that survives a century, 
the animal structure is sustained by food and air, etc. When these decay or the capacity to 
appropriate them fails, the elements take another form as truly as do those of the solidified 
carbonic acid, or of the fitful globule of potassium. So is it with the tiny plant of a week, 
with the cedars of Lebanon, and the yew that counts its age by centuries. They exist by the 
conspiring and sustaining force of the whole of the globe which gives a standing place and 
food, of the surrounding atmosphere which furnishes moisture and gaseous pabulum, and the 
eun which directly imparts its stimulating light and heat, and indirectly controls the rain and 
the dew. 

§ 654. The relative permanence of material substance ex- 
identity of ma- plains the possibility of its identity. Identity in such a sub- 

tenal substance. r . . 

stance may pertain to the constituent elements only, or to 
the form only, or to the uniting force, or it may be applied to the connec- 
tion of one part with another in a series of changes which involve a total 
alteration of both constituents and form. Thus if the same particles 
remain united in the same form by mechanical aggregation, the substance 
is eminently the same; the only diversity in such a case being that of 
relation to the person affirming it — a diversity of time or place or both. 
Should the constituents remain the same and the form be changed, 
it would be called the same, because the constituents are viewed as 
more important than the form. If the external form is changed by 
growth or development, as in plants or animals, the force that unites 
the parts is regarded as making them a substance. If the parts of a 
knife or a ship are displaced and replaced by successive removals and 
substitutions while the form and functions are retained, the substance is 
still called the same by a loose analogy taken from living agents and their 
gradual accretion and growth. 

Still further : the material substance thus defined is onlv the general notion 
An individual , , . . . „ , , .,..,*., _ 

material sub- of substance, which is equally applicable to every individual substance. Cut 

fined! ° Wde can w e n °t define an individual substance? The nearest approach to such 
a definition is by means of the relations of both time and space conjoined. 
An individual material substance is a being occupying exclusively a portion of space at a given 
portion of time. Either of these relations alone, as is obvious, is general and applicable to any 
material substance, but both together can only be affirmed of a single one. These two give 
the principle or definition of individuation so far as it can be accomplished by general or 
common relations. The adjective this indicates the same, for the service of language; hence 
the speculations of the schoolmen respecting the hcecceitas of any existing thing; which they 
sought to treat as a generalized attribute. The relations to the ego of the mental acts and 
states of which the individual is directly conscious, in a similar sense individualize the con- 
ception of mental substance, evidencing its reality and explaining its meaning. 



832 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §656: 

8 655. "We have seen that a change in form and structure or 

Tne production ,. . . ° 

of new sub- both, involves the production of a new substance, because it 
involves the production of relations which clearly distinguish 
such a substance. A living being, as an animal, consists in part of cer- 
tain material particles or elements. If a succession of changes or de- 
compositions and recompositions could go on before our eyes, so that we 
could trace the same particles back through every form in which they can 
possibly exist, through plant, mineral, earth, air, water, and in every pos- 
sible form of chemical and crystalline combination, till we had reached the 
ultimate molecules, or elements of all and of each, we should evolve a 
series of substances, one after another, in a consecutive order of gradation. 

But the simplest elements, the ultimate particles, would still be substances 
Ultimate parti- with attributes with which they must still exist, and from which they could 
cles or elements. neve . r j n fact be p arted# Those who seek an interior substance, constituting 

the nucleus or core of the outer, are misled by a secondary use of the word. 
If a momentary form of being is resolved into its more permanent constituents, these often are 
called its substance, and so in general those forces and laws which are relatively permanent 
are called hy eminence substantial and real. These are ordinarily solid, compact, and tangible, 
in contrast with the loosely-cohesive, the diffused, and impalpable. For this reason the former 
are counted substantial. The more fixed and permanent are usually more obvious to the 
grosser senses, especially the sense of touch, which for so many reasons is the leading sense. 
The case of solidified carbonic acid is an exception to this rule, and it shows that such an ap- 
plication of the word substance is accidental only, and not solidly grounded. 

In assuming or seeking for such, a substance philosophers have lost sight of the philo- 
The real Essence sophical conception of substance and have substituted in its place one that is narrower 
the Th ^ ° r and purely accidental. When Locke, for example, speaks of the real essence as " that 
itself. ' real constitution of any thing, which is the foundation of those properties that are 

combined in, and are constantly found to co-exist -with the nominal essence ; that par- 
ticular constitution, which every thing has within itself, without any relation to any thing without," 
the real essence here supposed, if it is a constitution of any thing on which its properties depend, must be 
either itself one or more material force or agent, or its properties or laws— i. e., it must be itself matter or 
the relations of matter. If it is matter, it is still substance with attributes. If it is a relation of matter, it 
is an attribute requiring a substance of which it may be affirmed. On either supposition this real constitu- 
tion of a thing on which its properties depend, leaves us as far as ever from attaining to an interior sub- 
stance by itself. Whether or not Locke would have allowed that he intended by his " real essence " what 
he elsewhere calls " substance," it is evident that all who conceive a substance to "underlie" the attri- 
butes, and who make efforts to " unearth " it, can have no other conception of it, than some "fixed consti- 
tution" on which these attributes depend. The " underlying substance" of the schools, the " thing in it- 
self " of Kant, are mere names, which signify either being in the abstract or being in the concrete. If it is 
being in the abstract, then it must be synonymous with matter as knowable, i. e., it is a concept only which 
can be separate from its relations in thought but never in fact. If it is being in the concrete, then this 
must be known with its relations and never apart f ora them. In either case the substance or thing in 
-itself, cannot be known by itself. 

a material sub- §656. It is not essential to a material substance that it be 
SySSepenl- independent or self-subsistent. This was insisted on by 
ent - Spinoza, who defines substance to be " that which exists and 

is conceived by itself." " Per siibstantiam intelligo id quod in se est et 
per se concipitur ; hoc est id citjus conceptusnon indiget conceptu alterius 
rei a quo formari debeaV JEthices, p. i. def. 3. 

From this definition the inference was direct and irresistible, that nc 



§657. SUBSTANCE AND ATTKIBUTE : MIND AND MATTER. 63S 

finite substance is possible, because every so-called finite material substance 
is produced or sustained by other material beings, and is dependent on 
them ; or, on the other hand, there is but one such substance, and that is the 
total of all which exist — the universe ; this totality being conceived as 
absolute and independent. Locke falls into a similar manner of speaking in 
the sentence just quoted, when he speaks of the constitution " which every 
thing has within itself without any relation to any thing without." Simi- 
lar to this is the doctrine of Whewell, that substance is indestructible. 
" The supposition of the existence of substance is so far from being uncer- 
tain, that it carries with it irresistible conviction, and substance is neces- 
sarily conceived as something which cannot be produced or destroyed." 
JStst. of Sclent. Ideas, vol. ii. p. 32. 

Our analysis has shown that a material substance is so far from being independent of other 
beings and forces, that, properly speaking, no material substance is in any sense independent, 
or can be conceived to be so. Every material substance is what it is by the productive or sus- 
taining force of all other beings and forces in the universe. It is also conceived and defined 
to be what it is by its relations to these forces, expressedly and impliedly. It cannot exist and 
cannot be defined except by these relations to other beings and agencies. The solidified car- 
bonic acid is no more truly dependent for its being on the pressure and cold that hold fast its 
constituents, than the oak that for centuries has thrust its roots into the crevices of the 
eternal rock, or than the rock itself or the solid substance of the earth, are dependent upon 
the agencies that hold them in place, and conditionate the functions of each. Modern science 
has impressed this lesson upon all its devotees, that the one lives in and depends upon the all, 
and that the all makes itself felt in the one also : that nothing in the universe is independent 
and nothing inconsiderable, that the forces and laws which move and sway the whole; produce, 
sustain, develop, and destroy every individual. 

If material substance is dependent, it is not necessarily indestructible. If the 
Not indestructi- forces which sustain it are withdrawn, or their action is changed, it ceases to 
ble - be, or ceases to be the same substance that it was. It may be an induction 

which is well grounded in observation, that the ultimate material particles or 
molecules will not be destroyed ; but to call these the only material substances is to use the 
word in a narrow and special sense. Our belief in the indestructibility of these ultimate parti- 
cles is not an axiom, but is founded on other assumptions, coupled with extended observation 
of facts and wide-reaching analogies. 

our belief in its § 65 ^ ^nd yet we do assume, that material substances are 
mounded fnde- permanent, — not the ultimate particles alone, but even the 
Bi s n - continuous forms in which they exist and perpetually reap- 

pear. If we did not assume this, we should not define the constituents of 
either, we should not form them into concepts, or apply these concepts for 
the ends of knowledge. What is the nature and what are the grounds of 
this assumption ? In its nature it is none other than that the agencies and 
laws which sustain and produce them will remain, at least till they have 
accomplished the ends for which they exist. In other words, it is only 
. by relations of orderly design that we can explain or vindicate that belief 
in the permanence of the material structure as to its forms of being and 
their constituents which is received as an axiom in all physical or inductive 



634 



THE HUMAN INTELLECT. 



§658. 



philosophy. That this permanence or indestructibility is not essential or 
necessary, that it cannot be viewed as of itself an axiom, appears from 
the broader anc 3 deeper axioms into which it may be resolved, and on 
which it rests. 

When on the one nand, we etiow that all things which seem most solid and permanent in 
matter, are the constant products of the elements and forces which bring and hold them together, 
we seem to dissipate all substance into moving and struggling particles, and to resolve the uni- 
verse itself into a flux of changing forces : Substance is dissipated into shadow, and the solid 
earth with all its forms of being and of life, is liable to be disintegrated into chaos. But 
when, on the other hand, we assume design to control and fix these forces and laws, we pro* 
vide for permanence in the products of these forces, for fixedness in material substance, and in 
the mind which interprets material being. 

There are philosophers who deny that there are permanent 
seem "o s deny forms or elements of material substance. Such believe that 

nothing is fixed, either in substance or attributes; that 
every thing in the universe is in a perpetual flux, that the law of develop- 
ment controls all existence, so that one form and species of being is 
evolved from another — the more complex from the more simple — in endless 
progression. ' There is no permanence in the species or forms of organio 
matter, or among living beings, but the tendency to development creates! 
new forms, and these again others still more complex by endless change 
and progress. The permanence which we'think we observe, and which 
we recognize in language, is only relative. Compared with the endless 
evolutions of ages, it is brief and transitional.' 

The grounds alleged for this dogma, are the varieties actually observed within the species 
and forms of being usually considered as permanent and fixed, and the extension of the law 
supposed to be thus indicated to a wider range of supposed deviations, and the application of 
it on a scale measured by the lapse of enormous periods of time. One relation of permanence 
in nature must, however, be assumed by all these philosophers, and that is, the permanence of 
this law or principle of development itself If it be assumed from the limited facts and obser- 
vations adduced, that this law of development has prevailed in all the ages, and evolved one 
form of being after another, by a steady progress and in regular order ; then the permanence of 
the law of development itself must be referred to a fixed purpose and design of nature. If it 
is accepted as the product of induction, induction itself, with its underlying axioms and rules 
of practice rests upon assumed design. The law of development cannot, therefore, drive the 
fact of design out of the universe, nor dispense with the assumption of design as one of 
the axioms of science. 

V. The mutual relations of material and spiritual substance next claim 
our attention. 

The reciprocal § 65 8. This is a subject of special difficulty and importance. 
fertaiTndfpStl Many of the attributes of both mind and matter can only be 
urn substance. explained and understood by means of one another. The 
one can be defined and known only by the other. To understand and 
describe the one we must make use of the other. But the two are in some 



§659. SUBSTANCE AND ATTRIBUTE : MIND AND MATTER. 03£ 

important respects very unlike. In bringing mind and matter under the 
categories of substance and attribute, we are constantly impelled to mak& 
prominent the features which are common to both. And yet it is here 
most essential that we notice the points in which they are especially unlike. 
In order to do this with success, we must first consider the difference be- 
tween the direct and reflex knowledge of both matter and spirit, to which 
the mind is competent. 
. , , The mind knows both matter and mind by direct and reflex 

Mind and mat- * . 

ter directly knowledge. By direct knowledge m sense-perception, it 
knows matter as a being, i. e. the object of its knowing. By 
direct knowledge in consciousness, it knows itself as the agent which 
knows matter, and is also the subject of certain sensations. It knows 
both these objects in certain relations. It knows matter not only to exist, 
but to be diverse from itself the knower, and to be extended : it knows 
itself to exist, and enduringly to feel and act. The relations involved in 
this direct knowledge of matter and mind are common and diverse, and 
are possible by their respective relations to space and time. 

Relations of causation and design may also be affirmed of both matter 
and mind, while each is the object of the mind's direct cognition. Thus 
one material object may be viewed as the cause of a change in another, 
and even of the existence of another material object. Thus the mind 
itself, as objective to its own consciousness, may be viewed as the cause 
of its own spiritual states, or of any effects that are known or seem to be 
within the reach of spiritual activity, whether these involve efficiency or 
design. 

The attributes of matter and mind, which are known by this direct knowl- 
Beflex knowl- , .. ,-,•,•■, , t» , . , , 

edgeofboth. edge, are easily analyzed and understood. But when mind and matter are 

difficult.^' bUt ky reflex knowledge viewed in their mutual relations ; when their capacities 
to hold relations to one another or to act upon one another are considered) 
then the analysis becomes difficult, and the clear expression in language of the distinctions 
observed, is embarrassing. The two objects compared must be placed side by side before the 
comparing mind, by an act of indirect or reflex knowledge. In order to this, the mind, or 
rather the soul which is compared with matter, must be ideally separated from the intellect that 
compares the two. The acts and powers of the soul must be considered as sentient and per- 
cipient. We have seen that the most important of the attributes involved are those of causa- 
tion, and that the attributes of matter and of mind which are to be determined, are their capaci- 
ties to produce effects upon one another. But what kind of effects ? Effects of sensation 
only, or of perception also ? We reply, effects of sensation only ; for perception is no effect 
of matter upon the mind or soul (§ 651). In this product the mind only is active. But 
matter, when it is compared with the mind, is apprehended as the cause of certain sensations, 
and its capacities to produce these sensations, define its attributes or qualities. But in order 
to be known with attributes, it must have been known, by direct knowledge, as a being. 

Matter imown § 659 « ^ n other words, in sense-perception, the intellect 
to b bt n known d as must know something more than effects, viz., specific 
cause. sensations, as of touch, sight, etc., for which it assumes an 



636 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §660. 

unknown cause, viz., the producer of these felt effects, and invests with 
attributes accordingly ; for in this same sense-perception it knows matter 
as being as well as certain effects or sensations in itself. This is its pre- 
rogative as an agent competent to know. It not only knows itself and those 
acts and objects, that are purely spiritual, but it knows material objects 
also. If it did not know them directly as beings, it could not know them 
as extended or as diverse from itself, or as causal agents. 

The process of inferring them as unknown causes of known effects, or as ' possibilities of 
sensation,' is too awkward to be received, and is beyond the capacities of the infant mind. 
They must be known by direct knowledge as beings producing sensations if the mind, 
when it compares the one agent with the other in indirect or reflex knowledge and applies 
to both the category of causation, is to be assured that there are two beings whose causative 
attributes it may determine. In sense-perception, the mind apprehends matter or material 
being. In touch, whether viewed as a special sense or as present in all the remaining senses, 
the mind does more than experience hardness which is intensified into a painful sensation by 
pressure ; it does more than experience the muscular sensations which attend the use of the 
locomotive or muscular power ; it knows matter as being, just as truly as it knows the ego as 



These beings cannot be defined as beings, because we define by relations only. 
Being, spiritual We speak of beingness or entity as a relation, only by a forced use of thought 
not be defined. " an ^ speech. When we define these beings — the ego and the matter, the 

spiritual and material substance — we use only their common and several rela- 
tions ; we recognize their attributes, whether, these are relations of time and space, or of causa- 
tion and design. But we assume and imply their being, and that we know the being of each 
by direct and satisfying knowledge. If we did not. know them both to be, we should not seek 
to assign their respective attributes to each. We should not seek to separate the agency of 
each in the effects in which both are coefficient. 

We say, then, without reserve, that the mind in sense-perception, knows matter or mate- 
rial being as truly and as directly as in consciousness it knows the ego, or mental being. 

§ 660. These two beings which are separated and distin- 

Dualism of ° . P - •._ -.'• - ' • ■■* . 

matter and guished irom one another by the duahstic analysis or direct 

mind overcome ,.,_ .... ,, % . \« , , 

by unity of knowledge, are again united as one by the synthesis of thought. 
First of all they are united as beings under that all-compre- 
hensive category, and second, by the similarities of the several relations 
which are common to both. The unknown and fleeting material substance 
that has eluded the definitions of philosophers, is the something which is 
known in every act of sense-perception: which is defined, indeed, by 
means of the relations of sense and of thought ; but is not the less, but 
the more necessarily assumed to be. It is true, the most important of the 
relations of matter are its relations to the soul itself, and the most ob- 
trusive of the affections of the soul are its sensations, but the soul, as 
intellect, has and discerns other relations than these. It is more than a 
conscious receiver of sensations. It has the power, by direct cognition, 
to know matter and spirit in higher relations than those of sense. It can 
know them in their respective relations to space and time, and, above all, 
it can unite them as adapted to one another in a common design. Both 



§662. SUBSTANCE AND ATTRIBUTE I MIND AND MATTER. 637 

matter and spirit have certain common and separate relations to time 
and space, either in their acts or objects. Each, also, is known by rela- 
tions of causation, material being by its relations to the soul as sentient, 
giving sensible qualities ; psychical being by spiritual acts and states, and 
also by its capacities to be acted on through the body in sensation, and 
to act upon it in motion. They have relations to other material and 
mental beings. These beings, as defined by these relations, are called sub- 
stances ; for each holds a permanent existence and permanent relations to 
the other in the designs of nature and of God. 

This analysis enables us to understand the possibility of a difference in the attributes of 
matter, and especially the division of these qualities into primary and secondary. 

YI. The Primary and Secondary qualities of Matter. 

§ 661. The qualities of matter have been divided into two classes, Primary and Seo 
Twofold and ondary ; and into three, Primary, Secundo-Primary and Secondary. Others have de- 
threefold classi- nied that there was any ground for dividing them at all, contending that there is no 
fication. reason for recognizing more than a single class. The older Greek philosophers— thi 

Atomisls— distinguished the qualities of hot and cold, sweet and hitter, and of color etc.. 
as experienced by the soul; from the capacity in bodies to produce them. The quality in the body, in aU 
these cases, they contended was some particular configuration of atoms. 

Aristotle, by applying the distinction between an object in capacity, kv Svvdfiei, and an 

object in act, ev hepyia, was led to distinctly recognize many of those which were after 

~l ocifiparion wards called secondary qualities, as simply capacities in objects to produce by act sen-. 

sations in the soul. In other words, they were recognized as powers, or, in modern 

phrase, they were relegated to the categoiy of causation. But Aristotle distinguishes 

between common and proper sensibles, ala-drjTa kolvo. kou ISia. Of the first he enumerates five : Magnitude 

{Extension), Figure, Motion, Rest and Number. These are simplified still further by him into one or two, 

of which motion is preeminent, or, as some of his interpreters contend, is all-comprehensive. 'Whether the 

common sensibles are apprehended by sense he would make a question, and this question was abundantly 

discussed by the later Aristotelians. That they are qualities of matter he would not doubt in the least, 

and that they correspond to the Primary qualities of his predecessors, there can be no question. 

Descartes distinguishes the two classes as follows : (1) Magnitude, Figure, Motion, Situa- 
tion, Duration, and Number, etc., etc., are clearly perceived ; (2) Color, Pain, Odor, and 
That of Des- Xaste are perceived in a very different manner. Of qualities of the first class we have 
an idea as they are or may be in fact or reality (ut sunt aut saltern esse possuni). Of 
those of the second we have only an obscure and confused conception of something which 
occasions the appropriate sensation. These are nothing but certain arrangements of size, figure, and mo- 
tion (dispositions quasdam in Magnitudine, Figura et Motu consislentes). Of the one we have an idea, of 
the other a sensation. The essence of matter, according to Descartes, consists of extension, as that of mind 
consists of thought. Of course the knowledge of extension is the, knowledge of matter as it is ; while the 
knowledge of every thing else concerning matter, viz., its qualities or properties, must be of what it is in 
relation to the mind, i. e., to its thoughts, in the sense of Descartes, i. e., to its sensations. 

§ 662. The doctrine of Locke may be stated in the following propositions : 
(a.) A Quality in a body is its power to produce ideas in us. 
Classification of ^ Primary qualities are such as are absolutely inseparable from a body in whatever 
state it may be. They are such as are essential to the very idea of matter. These original 
primary qualities are Solidity, Extension, Figure, Motion or Pest and Number. (B. II. 
c. 8, § 9.) To this he adds, in another place, Bulk. By Number, Hamilton supposes he means divisibility 
of the constituent parts. The ideas of these qualities are resemblances of them, and their patterns do 
really exist in the bodies themselves. 

(c.) Secondary qualities are not essential to the idea of matter ; matter can be conceived to exist with- 
out them. Moreover, they are powers to produce various sensations in us by means of the primary qual- 
ities, i. e., by the bulk, figure, texture and motion of their insensible parts, as colors, sounds, tastes, etc., etc. 
" The ideas [i. e., sensations] produced in us by these secondary qualities have no resemblance of them at all." 
These divisions and definitions are peculiar in the arrangement which they make in the qualities enu- 
merated under each class, but preeminently in that they involve a physical theory, not unlike that of tht 



638 



THE HUMAN INTELLECT. 



§666 



ancient Atomists, that the secondary qualities can be explained hy certain relations and motions of the 
primary qualities. They involve Locke's peculiar theory of knowledge as consisting in the apprehension 
of resemblances to or between ideas. Berkeley and Hume both rejected Locke's distinction of primary and 
secondary qualities, when they limited our knowledge of matter to that of ideas only, by a more rigid 
application of his definition of knowledge. 

§ 663. Reid, in his Inquiry, enumerates as primary qualities, Extension, Figure, Mo- 
tion, Hardness and Softness, Roughness and Smoothness ; in his Essays, Extension, Divisi- 
Of Reid. bility, Figure, Motion, Solidity, Hardness, Softness, and Fluidity as so called by Locke. 

Laying out of view the questions which might arise in respect to the meaning of some 
of the terms here used, as the different import of solidity and hardness, we observe 
that Reid holds with Descartes that our notions of the primary qualities are clear and distinct, and of the 
secondary are obscure and confused, and with Descartes and Locke, that the primary give a knowledge of 
objects, i. e., qualities in themselves, while the second gives us a knowledge of the unknown causes of 
subjective affections of the soul. Our knowledge of the first is therefore direct, of the second is relative. 

§ 664. Dugald Stewart distinguishes the primary qualities into two classes, the mathe- 
matical affections of matter, which are extension and figure, and the proper primary 
Steward qualities, which are hardness, softness, roughness, and smoothness. These two classes of 

primary qualities involve extension and outness or externality. The secondary are only 
the unknown causes of known sensations. "When first apprehended by the mind they 
do not imply any thing distinct from the states of the soul. The unknown cause is afterwards, as in the 
case of color, so intimately associated with the subjective sensation, that the sensation itself is taken to 
involve extension, and it is impossible for us to believe that there can be sensations of color without 
perceived extension. Phil. Essays. 

§ 665. Hamilton divides the qualities of matter into three classes, the Primary, the 
Secundo- Primary, and the Secondary. The primary include all the relations of matter 
to space, i. e., the relations of extension. These may be stated under two general 
heads— the relations of matter as filling space, and as contained in space. Matter, as 
filling space, is extended in three dimensions and is incompressible. Matter, as con- 
tained in space, is capable of motion and place. 

The primary qualities are simply objective, and though given on condition of sensation 
are percepts proper, gained by pure mental apprehension ; no sensation or relation to 
sensation being involved in the notion which we form of them. 

The secundo-primary are all comprehended under Resistance or pressure, and may 
be defined as the various capacities of Resistance. These are comprehended under the 
several heads of Gravity and Cohesion, Repulsion and Inertia. They are both objective and subjective. 
As objective they resist the locomotive energy, and are apprehended as resisting it in various degrees. As 
subjective they affect the sentient organism with various sensations of pressure. In the secundo-primary 
a sensation, viz., of pressure, is the concomitant of the perception, viz., of resistance to the locomotive en- 
ergies. The term hardness denotes a resistance of which we are conscious, and a certain feeling from 
pressure on the organism. The former, a perception, is wholly different from the latter, a sensation. 

The secondary are not properly qualities of body at all. "We know only the several 
sensations and we infer some power in the body which produces them. These sensa- 
tions, as consciously experienced, are, however, not purely subjective or spiritual states 
without extension, but affections of the sentient and animated organism, which is known 
in sensation to be extended. Each of these affections depends entirely on the excite- 
ment of the nervous organism from any stimulus, as electric action, congestion of the nerves, pressure or a 
blow ; and the reference of it to any perceived body is purely inductive and experiential. The sensations 
to which these unknown or occult powers in bodies are supplied, are Color, Sound, Flavor, Savor and Tactual 
sensation, and all those which we have described as the Muscular and Organic sensations. The secondary 
qualities are powers inferred from sensation. 

In respect to the relation of these three classes of attributes to the notion of matter, 
Hamilton asserts that the primary only are absolutely essential to the notion of matter, 
and these all rest upon the d priori and necessary idea of space, and can be deduced 
from it. The secundo-primary qualities, generalized as Hardness known through pres- 
sure, are not essential to the concept of matter. They are, moreover, known by ob- 
servation and not deduced d priori. They are not, therefore, known as necessary but as contingent. They 
are not, therefore, essential to the notion of matter, though they are believed to be its invariable accompa- 
niment. The secondary qualities are obviously d fortiori not essential to the conception of matter. 
In critically estimating these theories by the aid of our analysis in §§ 650-660, -we observe : 

§ 666. 1 . There is a general agreement in the opinion, that if there are any attributes of 
matter which are known directly by the mind, and which as known do not involve any 
relation to the sensations which attend them, these may be properly called primary 
qualities. If also there are powers in matter to produce sensations as effects in tha 
soul as a sentient, these arc secondary qualities. 



Of Sir William 
Hamilton. 



The Primary 
and Secundo- 
Primary. 



The Secondary 
Qualities. 



The relation of 
the three to the 
notion of matter. 



The Primary 
and Secondary 
qualities distin- 

fc"uish;ible. 



§668. 



SUBSTANCE AND ATTRIBUTE: MIND AND MATTER. 639 



The principle of the division is obviously so just and the application of it so easy, that the only ques- 
tion which we need ask is, Can these two classes of attributes be distinguished in fact 1 

The analysis already made has shown that they can. The relations of matter to space, in its double 
form of the space-limited and the space-filling, do not in their matter or content, as known by the mind, 
involve the recognition of any sensation. On the other hand, the powers of matter to produce certain 
sensations of touch, sight, smell, taste, and sound, can only be known by considering the sensations them- 
selves as caused by these powers. Of the first class we have direct and positive knowledge. Of the second 
our knowledge is indirect and relative, it being explained by the effects. 

2. Is there now an intermediate or third class of material qualities, the secundo-primary, 
The Secundo- such as that for which Hamilton contends, in which the perceptional and sensational 
primary not sat- elements are both combined ? "We think that if there is, Hamilton has failed to show 
tablishedf ** ^ D * 9 analysis. The passage which gives the results of this analysis most briefly 

and clearly is the following : " The secundo-primary qualities have thus always two 
phases, both immediately apprehended. On their primary or objective phasis they manifest themselves as 
degrees of resistance opposed to our locomotive energy ; on their secondary or subjective phasis, as modes 
of resistance or pressure affecting our sentient organism." Heidi's Works, note D, p. 848. 

The " locomotive energy " or " the locomotive faculty " is carefully distinguished by Ham- 
ilton (p. 864) from the muscular sense. He calls it the power of moving the muscles at 
comotiveenerCT w *' 1 ' an( i conce i ves * na * ^ might exist and act if all muscular feeling were abolished. 
In its actual exercise he analyzes its activities into three elements : 1. As a pure men- 
tal act of will = the hyper-organic volition to move. 2. As a mental effort or nisus to 
move = the enorganic volition of which we are immediately conscious. 3. As the contraction of the mus- 
cles = the organic movement or the organic nisus. 

Of this we observe, that this locomotive energy or faculty as known to itself by effort and degrees of 
resistance, is either purely spiritual or sensational or both. If it is purely mental, then the mind knows 
of a mental purpose and effort to move either something already known as objective, or its own organism 
known as such. If it be of something objective to the organism, then the degrees of its refusal to move 
must be measured either by the greater or smaller displacement or change of its space relations, in which 
case degrees of resistance would be estimated by objectively discerned changes in space-relations ; or by some 
relation of the object to pure mental effort, in which case resistance in matter would be defined and con- 
ceived only by its relation to a purely mental effect, viz., resistance to mental effort, which would involve a 
phasis eminently subjective. If the object be the organism, then the resistance of the organism must be 
measured in the same way, on the supposition that all sensations are excluded. 

If the locomotive energy is psychical and the resistance in its several degrees is sensational, then we 
have no longer a pure mental apprehension, either of objective relations of space or of relations to men- 
tal effort, but we estimate resistance by its relations to experienced sensations, which involves a subject- 
ive phasis again in that which is claimed to be purely objective. 

If the locomotive energy as exerted and resisted are both known, as sensations, or are known by means 
of sensations, then the phenomena are purely subjective. 

In general the power in matter to resist mental efforts can scarcely be considered as belonging to any 
class except the secondary qualities. The power to resist the locomotive energy is distinguished from 
the power to produce sensations, only by the kind of subjective effect which it produces. The one is no 
more objective than the other. 

§ 667. There is still an element in matter which does not fall within either of the two 
Matter as being, classes of qualities, and which Hamilton seeks to provide for (unsuccessfully as we have 
t h^e re Primary seen), by the intermediate class. The conviction that there is material being forces 
qualities. itself upon every mind, and gives interest to the problem which in any way starts the 

question, ' "What is that something 1 ' What then is it? We reply, it is matter as being, 
as distinguished from its relations to other matter, to the sentient spirit, or to space or time. This is 
known by direct " mental apprehension." It is known in connection with felt sensations and on condition 
of the excited or impelled sensorium. It is known as being and also as causing these sensations, not as 
though its being was only known through or by relation to these sensations, but it is directly known as 
being and also as related to these sensations which it causes. "When it is not merely known as a percept, 
but is also defined as a concept, then by the very nature of the concept, it can be expressed and defined only 
by its relations or its attributes. (§652.) These give us logical knowledge. This does not include, nor 
can it stand in the place of the direct knowledge which perception alone can give, and imagination can re- 
vive. This can suggest what that would be and hence can in a most important sense recall and imply it. 
But the knowledge of matter of being is not included in, it is only implied by the statement of its attri- 
butes. "What the mind knows in its perception of matter can never be conveyed by an enumeration of 
the relations or attributes of what is thus known. 

§ 668. Two questions remain to be considered in respect to these two classes of qualities, 
still remain. ( a *) - Are *'^ e P rrmar y qualities distinguished from the secondary in being alone essen- 

tial to the conception of matter, as Locke and others assert? (&.) Do the primary qual 
ities alone give us a knowledge of matter as it really is, and as distinguished from a relative knowledge ? 



640 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 669 

In reply to the first, it is enough to say, that if we distinguish the concept or notion of 
Are the primary matter from a percept or image, then all that is properly essential are those relations 
qualities ess en- or qualities which are required to define and distinguish this kind of being from every 
tion of matter ?" other being. It is of course implied that such relations are always true of this kind of 
being ; that they are always present and never absent in a single individual. This 
being assumed, we have only to ask for a sufficient number of relations to serve the purposes of definition. 
It is obvious that for this single object no other are necessary than the relations of matter to space. 
These are always present, and for the purposes of defining the concept these alone are required. 

But this cannot be all that is intended by the phrase " essential to the notion of matter." This would 
suggest a question like this, '■ Can matter, i. e., the space-filling and space-contained being— possibly exist 
without some or all of the so-called sensible qualities, viz., those of touch, color, smell, sound and taste? 
This question suggests its own answer, as follows : "We cannot believe that matter is not tangible to a 
sentient endowed with touch, or visible, i. e., colored to a sentient who can see. That matter is not visible 
to the blind is an unquestioned fact. But suppose he could see, and again suppose that the vision of those 
who do see were sufficiently acute to enable them to see the matter of gases, and the like ? "Whether there 
ia or could be matter which is wholly divested of odor, or taste, or sound, to sentients •with the acutest con- 
ceivable capacities it would not be easy to decide, but it is quite certain that we can conceive [t. e., ima- 
gine] it to exist without some of these qualities or relations to our own sensibility. If we employ the 
question in its more general meaning, we mean by " essential to the concept of matter " — " necessarily in- 
volved or implied in its nature or constitution." This would be the same as to ask, ' Can there be a per- 
manently space-filling something which is not also tangible, visible, audible ? ' etc. But this is not a 
logical, or psychological, or even a metaphysical problem, but one that is purely physical— a problem which 
can be solved by extensive observations of every species of matter and a more penetrating insight into its 
powers and laws than has yet been reached. Its solution must be left with the physicists to whom it prop- 
erly belongs. 

§669. . The second question is the following : Is it true, as Eeid asserts, that our knowl- 
edge of the primary qualities only is a direct and real, while that of the secondary is 
real 'kmy^edae only an " 1<i ^ rect an<a relative knowledge of matter. In reply to this much agitated 
query, it seems clear that the knowledge of neither class of qualities as such, is real, 
as contrasted with relative knowledge. The knowledge of qualities of every sort is, as we 
have seen, only a knowledge of relations, and it consequently can only be relative knowledge. It is true 
the two classes of relations are different by reason of the beings to which they are related. The primary 
qualities are the relations of matter to time and space and the perceiving mind. The secondary and se- 
cundo-primary are its relations to the sentient soul. The first are discerned by the intellect only and do 
not require that any felt sensation should be introduced. The second require that the sensations, varying 
in quality and intensity with each individual at different times, should be considered. The primary are 
apprehended by a direct cognition, the mind looking out of itself at its objects. The secondary involve a 
reflex process by which the mind projects before its comparing judgment, the object, viz., matter, and the 
subject, viz., the sentient soul, or animated body, and asks and answers what are the relations of the one to 
the other. While then, both primary and secondary lie within the sphere of relations, and the knowledge of 
both is relative only, yet the objects related and the process by which they are cognized and compared is in 
the one case more complicated and unnatural than it is in the other. But both presume a real being which 
is both knowable and known as well as the relations of this being. If real knowledge is contrasted with, 
and is exclusive of, relative, knowledge, then neither the primary nor the secondary qualities, when known 
as relations only, ensure us real knowledge. If direct and relative are opposed, we can only say that the 
knowledge by the primary is more direct than knowledge by the secondary. 

The knowledge of qualities, whether primary or secondary, is not a knowledge of the reality but of 
the nature of existing things. It is, properly, not a knowledge that they are, but a knowledge of what they 
are. The primary qualities are, in one sense, more constant and universal, and hence more easily em- 
ployed as signs or indications of what is fixed and permanent in the agencies, laws, and designs of existing 
objects, and hence they are safer than the secondary as indicators and criteria of what we call real knowl- 
edge. But the nature of real knowledge has been so much discussed in modern speculation as to require 
to be separately considered. As we are necessarily brought to consider this topic by the discussion of sub- 
stance and attribute, we add the following : 

VII. Of the real as opposed to the phenomenal. 

§ 670. The real, in the language of recent philosophy, is opposed both 
to the phenomenal and the relative. It is used in the first connection by 
Kant, and in the second by Hamilton. 



§668. SUBSTANCE AND ATTEIBUTE : MIND AND MATTER. 641 

Phenomenal dis- The phenomenal, as distinguished from the real, may be under- 
the^e^lu^th? stood in two senses. It may mean that that which appears 
first sense. t one sense fe no t w /iat it appears to be to another ; as when 

a stick, thrust in the water, appears to be bent, but is not so in fact ; or, 
when the rainbow appears to be, but is not, a solid arch, or the spectrum on 
the screen appears to be, but is not, a dagger or a flame. In cases like 
these, the object, as known by one sense, is misjudged (§ 146.) The inference 
is drawn that one percept, as that given to the eye, is the sign of another, 
that which is appropriate to the touch. We infer that what we see with 
the eye is, or will prove, solid, or, as we say, real, to the touch. We say 
of the stick in the water, it is apparently, but not really crooked, and of 
the stick in the atmosphere, with precisely the same appearance, it is not 
merely apparently but is really crooked. In this sense, that which is known 
by the sense of touch, or by all the senses combined, is held to be real, 
while what is apparent to or inferred from a single sense is phenomenal. 

The phenomenal, in the second sense, is any thing manifested 
sense 116 second to direct observation — either of sense or consciousness — as 

distinguished from the elements into which it is resolved, and 
the powers or laics by which it is explained. For example, the rainbow, 
as apprehended by the eye, is a phenomenon ; but the rainbow, as 
resolved into light reflected from rain-drops at a certain angle from the 
sun, is said to be the reality. But what is a rain-drop ? As a phenomenon 
it is an object with a certain form and appearance to the eye, with a certain 
taste, feeling, to the other senses, and with other relations to other well- 
known substances. But when it is chemically analyzed, it is known to be 
the product of certain agents in certain proportions. The reality of water 
would again be considered by some to be its chemical elements united in 
certain proportions ; and the reality of light, an ether capable of certain 
undulations. 



According to this use of these contrasted terms, every thing apprehended by 
in the last sense the senses, all that is known as most solid and real in the world of matter, 
perceived is reaL is on ^J phenomenal, and that only is real which is discovered by science of 

the elements and laws into which these phenomena are resolved, and by which 
they are explained. Any thing which remains to be thus explained and resolved, is phe- 
nomenal, relatively to the agents and laws which explain it. 

The solid matter which we touch and press against is not real. The reality is the un- 
known something which we describe as endowed with the power to impart a special sensation 
through the nerves of touch. This special sensation with which we are so familiar is not real, 
but only the something which suffers changes (suppose vibrations), by which tbe mind is 
affected in a peculiar manner. Under this contrast, that which is directly and constantly 
known, which interests our feelings, which is most important, and, in one sense, is most perma- 
nent, is pronounced unreal ; and that only is called real which is reached by special and arti- 
ficial analysis, and expressed by recondite relations. Of the analysis which attains to reality 
so understood, we are never certain that we have reached the end. The real agents behind 
these shifting changes which we call the phenomenal universe of material being, may not yet 
41 



THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 671. 

have been ascertained ; and after all that science has discovered, we are still forced to ask, 
What is reality, and shall we ever be able to lay hold of it ? 

§ 671. In respect even to the mind that knows matter, we 

Not even what . . , ., . .. ,.~, ,, ,. .. 

we know by the inquire whether, in case it were differently constituted, it 
would not give different phenomena ; and whether what we 
call the sensible world is not a phenomenon made up in part of the 
unknown object which we call matter, and in part of the organized and 
animated matter which we call the sensorium, so that the objects touched 
and tasted and smelled and colored, etc., etc., which we call the material 
universe, are not realities, but only phenomena jointly produced by the two 
unknown and unknowable realities which we call matter and the embodied 
soul. 

According to this contrast, the real thing, the thing in itself, can never be known. It is 
transcendental to our knowledge ; we only know that it is. We cannot even know it in any 
relations ; for the relations or categories by which the understanding judges, do not connect 
realities, but only phenomena. Even the relations of space and time do not apply to realities, 
but only to phenomena. And if both the forms of the understanding and of intuition, 
could be applied to things as well as to phenomena, these forms may themselves be only sub- 
jective, that is, the phenomenal products of the human agent having a relative existence only 
to the human being. 

The real as thus opposed to the phenomenal is called by Kant the noumenon or the 
Kant's doctrine ^ e thing in itself. This cannot be discerned by the senses, nor can it be apprehended 
of the real and by consciousness. It ever flits from our grasp, and leaves phenomena only in our pos- 
phenomenal. session as shadows which do not satisfy us but point to something which we never can 

reach. We cannot know it by the intellect. It is true that the Speculative Reason, 
as distinguished from the Understanding, must assume it to exist, in order to regulate its operations and 
conclusions, but even the Speculative Reason does not know that it in fact exists. It is only the Practical 
or Moral Reason which commands us to believe that it exists in the three forms of Matter, the Soul, and 
God. 

The doctrine of Hamilton on this subject has been made the subject of earnest dispute. 

Different interpreters are far from being agreed as to what was his real meaning. The 
doctrine 8 following passages seem to express his views in intelligible language, and to exhaust all 

the constructions to which they can be subjected : " Our whole knowledge of mind and of 

matter is relative— conditioned— relatively conditioned. Of things absolutely or in 
themselves— be they external, be they internal — we know nothing or know them as incognizable ; and be- 
come aware of their incomprehensible existence only as this is indirectly and accidentally revealed to us 
through certain qualities related to our faculties of knowledge, and which qualities, again, we cannot 
think as unconditioned, irrelative, existent in and of themselves. All that we know is therefore phenom- 
enal—phenomenal of the unknown. The philosopher speculating on the worlds of matter and of mind, is 
thus, in a certain sort, only an ignorant admirer. In his contemplation of the universe, the philosopher 
indeed resembles iEneas contemplating th% adumbrations on his shield ; as it may equally be said of the 
Bage as of the hero : 

« Miratur : Rerum que ignarus imagine gaudet.' 
Nor is this denied ; for it has been commonly confessed, that as substances, we know not what is matter, 
and are ignorant of what is mind." Discussions, App. I. B. 

" Our knowledge is relative : 1st, because existence is not cognizable absolutely and in itself, but only 
in special modes ; 2d, because these modes can be known only if they stand in a certain relation to our 
faculties ; and 3d, because the modes, thus relative to our faculties, are presented to and known by tho 
mind only under modifications determined by these faculties themselves." Mel. Zee. 8. 

" Suppose that the total object of consciousnes in perception is =12 ; and suppose that the external 
reality contributes 6, the material sense 3, and the mind 3, this may enable you to form some rude con- 
jecture of the nature of the object of perception." Met. Lee. 25. 

" I believe that I immediately know a material world existing ; in other words, I believe that the ex- 
ternal reality itself is the object of which I am conscious in perception." Dis. Rev. of Meid and Brown. 



§673. SUBSTANCE AND ATTRIBUTE I MIND AND MATTER. 643 

" I have frequently asserted that in perception we are conscious of the external object immeiiatel? 
and in itself. This is the doctrine of Natural Realism. But in saying that a thing is known in itself, I do 
not mean that this object is known in its absolute existence, that is, out of relation to us. This is impos- 
sible, for our knowledge is only of the relative." Dissertations on Reid— (Note, p. 866.) 

!The assumptions § 672. We have already criticised the assumptions on which 
Hampton* criti- these conclusions of Kant and Hamilton are founded, and 
wsed. j iave <jj rec {; e( j attention to the misapplied analogies by which 

they have been derived. (§533.) We add only the remark that the word 
real, as at present contrasted with the phenomenal and the relative, is 
used comparatively only, so that an existence may be properly said to be 
more or less real, and that the words phenomenal and relative are also 
used in the same equivocal and variable manner. Philosophically or meta- 
physically considered, whatever is known is real, whether known to sense 
or consciousness, whether known to one sense or many senses, whether 
enduring for a moment or for an eternity, whether wrongly or rightly 
used as the ground for an inference. The thing in itself, or the thing un- 
related, is a mere abstraction, and the real thus interpreted, is an imaginary 
phantom, an hypostasized abstraction which is transcendental and unreach- 
able to the human intellect, whenever that intellect vainly imagines that it 
may have substantial and separate being. 



This search after the real as the ultimate and independent, is not confined to professed 
philosophers. 

§ 6*73. The course of thought by which these technical distinctions are 
The same ques- evolved, and these refined speculations are occasioned, is natural to all men. 
common^ife. ' The boy believes at first, that the rainbow which spans the sky is in reality a 

solid and colored arch. The savage thinks that the image of himself which is 
reflected in a mirror, is another human being who mocks his motions. But when the boy runs 
to touch the rainbow, he cannot find it ; and when the savage looks behind the mirror, he 
cannot grasp the man he saw. This, teaches them to distinguish between the real and 
the unreal. At first they call that real which can be handled as well as seen. When after- 
wards they learn to understand that these phenomena are effects, they dignify by the name of 
realities, the agents which produce them. By and by they conjecture that perhaps those 
appearances to the eye which are most permanent and constant, can be traced to certain 
forces on which they depend, and which are governed by laws. Having been surprised 
and mocked, as they think, more than once by sense-phenomena, they ask whether the uni- 
verse that is painted to the eye, becomes any more real because it can be touched and grasped 
by the hand, than the rainbow which exists for the eye only, and is impalpable to the com- 
mon touch ? They persist in inquiring, if unreal visions of the eye can be so skilfully con- 
jured into being by appropriate agencies, why also may not what is touched and weighed and 
measured be also as unreal, and be as dependent on forces and laws that are unobserved ? If 
the sense-universe is * what we half receive and half create,' why may not the mind it- 
self, in all its knowing, be made a changing and relative factor by its own forms of sense 
and thought, and more than half create the phenomena which it seems to know ? Nay, why 
may not the mind — the knowing agent — be itself a changing illusion, depending for being 
and laws on other agencies ; itself the most unreal phenomenon of all, because productive of 
the most numerous unrealities ? 



644 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §676. 

§ 674. We answer some of these questions thus : The question of reality 
How best re- and non-reality, as used in this special sense, is not concerned with phe. 
solved. nomena as such, but with the causes, forces, or agents, which produce and 

explain them. The rainbow is as real — i. e., knowable — as are the clouds or 
the solid earth ; and so is the image in the mirror as real as the man of whom it is 
..he reflex. While each endures and is manifested to the sense to which it is appropriate, 
it is a reality. It is an illusion, in that the mind made more of it than it was authorized to 
io. If the boy had regarded it as only being visible, and had not run across the fields to find 
its golden pillars, he would not have complained of nature, or grown sceptical as to her trust- 
worthiness. 

we distinguish § 675. To determine what is real, we must first inquire 
ceived and^Is hi what sense we use the word. "We may distinguish be- 
tween objects as perceived by sense, and as known in higher 
relations. Things and facts given in experience, are, as phenomena, just 
what they appear to be. But when we view them in their relations to 
causes and laws, we call those real whose causes are permanent and always 
active, for these are constant, ever-present, and enduring effects. If the 
causes are occasional and short lived, the effects are said to be unreal. 
The universal light and the wakeful eye cooperate to produce and prepare 
for the perceiving mind the reality which we call the visible universe. 
Let this light be dimmed, or the eye be dimmed (one or both), and the 
colored universe is an actual reality no longer. But inasmuch as its con- 
ditions or causes are ever ready to produce this phenomenal being, it is 
said to be real or a reality. 

The relations of § 6 ^ 6 - But when we ask, May not the perceiving intellect 
n^t^dfsfrust- produce the objects and relations which it beholds, as truly 
e<L and with a similar liability to change as does the sensorium 

— L e., Is it not with its categories, itself a phenomenon dependent upon 
transcendental and changeable forces ? We answer, "No. The analogy 
fails by which we transfer the phenomena of the sentient to the realities 
of the knowing soul. The soul, as intellect, not only acts in knowing 
according to the constitution which makes it what it is, but it assumes, 
and must assume, that these object-relations are discerned and affirmed by 
every intellect whether creating or created, and are therefore the real 
elements of all trustworthy knowing as a subjective process, and of all 
valid knowledge as an objective fact. To whatever object-matter this 
process or its results are applied (whether it be to material or spiritual, or 
to the thinking agent itself ), these categories are absolute and real, and 
cannot be even supposed to be relative or phenomenal. To suppose them 
such, is to commit intellectual suicide. It is to introduce constant antago- 
nism into every process which we perform, and the elements of self- 
destruction into every result which these processes evolve, as w r ell as logical 
incompatibility and confusion into the language by which both processes 
and results are expressed. It is to philosophize ourselves into the impossi 
bility of philosophy, and by assumptions which we deny that we mav as<*"^" 



§677. FINITE AND CONDITIONED. — INFINITE AND ABSOLUTE. 645 

It is not only to offend against reason by introducing inconsistency 
into that which in its very nature is self-consistent, but it is to overlook 
or deny those designs which we must assume that the universe exists to 
fulfil, so far at least as to be capable of being known. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE FINITE AND CONDITIONED. THE INFINITE AND ABSOLUTE. 

The questions concerning the finite and its relations, the conditioned and its dependence 
upon the absolute, are the most vexed and the most unsettled of any in modern specula- 
tion. Can the infinite be conceived or known by a finite inellect ? Can the uncondi- 
tioned be brought under those relations which are appropriate only to the conditioned ? 
What are the finite and the infinite — the conditioned and the absolute ? These inquiries, 
and such as these, are discussed in various forms and phrases in all modern treatises and 
histories of philosophy. They force themselves into psychology as they compel us to 
inquire : By what powers and processes of the intellect do we form, or essay to form, 
conceptions of these objects ? Do we believe that such objects exist ? Who and what 
are time, space, and God ? Do we only believe them to exist ? If so, by what process and 
on what grounds ? Is it a process of intuition, knowledge, or faith ? What relations do 
they hold to one another ? Are time and space infinite in every sense in which God is 
infinite ? These questions we must attempt to answer, if we would analyze all the powers 
and explain all the products of the human intellect. We can do this most successfully if 
we consider the finite and the conditioned apart from the infinite and the absolute. We 
begin with 

I. The finite and the conditioned, 

§ 677. The process of knowledge in all the forms as yet con- 
Sg^roIess! ,nut " sidered, is a unifying and therefore a limiting process. It is 

true it also divides ; but the intellect discriminates, in order 
that it may combine ; it divides, in order again to unite. But its final 
achievement is to effect some union. It is to make one, of materials which 
were separate or diverse. Each object which it takes in hand it analyzes 
into many parts, and discriminates into various elements. The parts it 
then proceeds to recombine into a completed whole : the elements it 
blends into a perfected product. It leaves it a completed whole or 
finished result, which passes into the sum of its possessions as a known, a 
defined, and therefore a limited or finite object. 

Thus, in sense-perception, the objects are perceived by being first separated 
Illustrated by j nto distinct percepts, each of which is perfected by a separate act of analytic 
tion. attention, and again united into a completed whole in space. These wholes 

are separated from the perceiving mind as diverse in nature, and" yet are con 
nected by the uniting act of knowledge, as existing in a single instant of time. 



646 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §678. 

These single objects, so called, thus distinguished from one another in space, are con. 
nected with one another as adjoining, and thus of these several distinguishable things, is made 
up a continuous unit, comprehending all the parts at once presented to the eye or covered 
by the hand. The distinguishable parts of an act or state of the mind are united as coex- 
istent, and so connected into a whole by the observation of consciousness. 

The units thus constituted may be enlarged by the imagination and memory. 
By acts of im- Spatial objects may be added one to another, so as to increase the space-unit 
memory. to tn © furthest limit ; or imagination may suppose them created when they 

are not. Memory may add to the present mental states all that have gone 
before within its own experience. Imagination supplies all that now exist, or that may exist 
in other minds. Each of these forms of the representative power, after its own manner pro- 
duces units or finite wholes. 

Thought, by its similarities observed, unites the like into new combinations 
Bv the processes or UInts - ft refers diverse effects to a common cause, acting under similar 
of thought. i aws# it subordinates means the most diverse to a single end, by their con- 

spiring and designed adaptation, and thus unites them as preeminently one. 

The finite n § 6 ^ 8 ' ^ e can i ma & me tnat a ^ material objects perceivable 
verse ; how con- could be united as one by the single mind with capacities 
ample enough to grasp so many by a single act. What no 
human mind can actually perceive or be conscious of, it imagines under the 
relations of time and space, and by induction believes to exist. It can also 
imagine every existing mind as operating with every other mind, and can 
suppose itself to know all the powers of these minds, and all their acts. 
We can believe it possible that these agents and objects should be known 
in all their knowable likenesses and dissimilarities, in all their causal 
agencies, in all the laws under which their forces act and the ends to 
which they are adapted. We can conceive this assemblage of separate 
objects, material and spiritual, with their several phenomena, to be but an 
assemblage of effects, produced by other agencies and other beings in 
previous times, and these by others ; each aggregate of beings and forces 
producing others, under permanent agencies and fixed laws. Moreover, we 
can conceive these beings, with their powers and laws, as co-existing in 
space ; these successive evolutions, whether of separate beings or new 
phenomena, as developed in time, as designed for separate ends, and all 
these ends as conspiring together for a series of ends, constituting in this 
way an intelligible and orderly system. This assemblage of all objects 
believed to be existing in space and acting in time, with all the agencies 
and laws and relations now known or which may be afterward discovered, 
make up the finite universe as knowable, or conceived by man. It is called 
the universe, because it includes as a whole all the separable objects 
apprehensible by sense and consciousness. It is the finite universe, be- 
cause each of these objects is limited to a portion of space and a period 
of time, and subjected to all the conditions of existence and of action 
which their actual forces, laws, and ends prescribe. It exists and acts 
under the action of these forces, ends, and laws. 



§ 680. FINITE AND CONDITIONED. INFINITE AND ABSOLUTE. 64''. 

To know the finite universe, in its constituent parts, and to unite these undei 

\V"hat it is to a u k 110wn and discoverable relations, is the aim of science. To this end it 

know tne uni- ' 

verse. observes facts, viz., objects and their phenomena; searches out causes, in- 

terprets laws and uses, and is ever nearing but has not yet achieved its 

ideal of mastering every thing that can be known. It conceives of all that exists, or has 

3xisted, or that may exist, and it seeks to make of this universe of fact, a universe, known — 

i. e., a universe of finished or completed knowledge. 

§ 679. To speak more exactly, the finite universe is both 
verselriimiS." limited and conditioned / the words limited and conditioned 

not being always synonymous. The universe of objects 
and events which we know by sense-perception, and which we enlarge by 
the representative power, believing that its objects exist by means of 
thought; this universe is made up of objects and events which are 
bounded by one another, and have a limited or definite extension. This 
is true of all the existing spirits which we know. They all exist and act 
within certain defined spheres of extension. When all these extended 
beings, and these spheres of spiritual being and action, are gathered into 
the universe known, its extension is still limited or defined. So far, also, 
as we trace this universe of beings and phenomena, backward or forward 
through the series of its changing developments, its duration is limited by 
a beginning and end. There is a first and a last of the series, if it is 
limited; whether the terms designate a single object or act, or are collec- 
tive and designate many objects. 

It is also a conditioned universe. Every part and element in 
tioned! 80 ° ondl " ^ depends on something other than itself, for what it is and 

for what it does. It begins to be by the operation of one 
or more agents acting according to laws, and these agents are the neces- 
sary conditions of its existence. It also continues to exist under the 
operation of conditions. These conditions are the causes, laws, and ends 
of its being, and these prescribe its being, as well as the sphere and the 
results of its activity. Each part of the universe being thus dependent on 
productive forces other than itself, the universe itself, as a whole, is said 
to be conditioned as well as limited. But is this all that we know ? Is 
this all that exists ? Besides the limited, is there the unlimited ? Be- 
sides the conditioned and dependent, is there the unconditioned, the self- 
existent, and self-active ? These questions introduce 

II. The infinite and absolute, and their relations to the finite and de> 
pendent. 

8 680. To understand the import of the questions concern- 

The import of . _ . -i,. -i , , , , , 

the terms must mg these much-vexed topics, and to attempt to answer them, 
it is necessary, first of all, to clear away all uncertainty in 
respect to the terms which are employed, and to bring the mind to a 
definite apprehension of the various senses in which they may be inter- 
changed and confounded. The vagueness in which terms of such extreme 



648 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. 

abstractness are susceptible, and the consequent ambiguity with which 
they are used by different writers and even by the same writers at differ- 
ent times, are fruitful sources of misunderstanding and controversy : to say 
nothing of the general haziness and uncertainty which invest the subject 
in many minds. It may contribute somewhat to the removal of these 
evils, if we consider, first of all, the etymology of the more important of 
these terms. 

"We begin with the infinite. 

§ 681. Infinite signifies, literally, that which is not bounded 
of h the^Sftl° n or terminated. It is primarily applied to spatial quantity. 

Every thing which has extent is terminated or bounded by 
some other object or objects which are also extended. The line or surface 
which divides one surface or solid from another, is called its limit, and the 
surface or solid, as necessarily thus terminated or terminable, is called 
finite or limited. In like manner, the mathematical point is conceived as 
terminating or limiting the mathematical line, and the line itself is limited 
or finite. By an obvious transference of signification from the objects of 
space to those of time, the first and last of any succession of events or 
series of numbers is called its limit, and every series of numbers, numbered 
objects, or events and portions of time, is finite or limited. 

The terms originally appropriate to extension, duration, and 
from quantity to number, are still further applied to the exercise of power by 

material and spiritual agents. The exercise of power by 
man, whether spiritual or material, is possible only in certain places, at 
certain times, and with respect to a certain number of objects, or a measured 
quantity or mass of matter, and thus power itself becomes measurable 
by the relations of quantity and number as applied to its effects and the 
means by which they are caused. Man can only accomplish certain effects 
in limited places, times, and number, and hence he is said to be limited in 
his powers. He can only know and do certain things under all these 
favoring circumstances, and is therefore a finite being. The word finite is, 
therefore, originally a term of quantity, and secondarily of causal or 
productive agency. The infinite, in the general sense, is the not-finite. 
Logically conceivable, there are as many sorts of the not-finite or infinite 
as there are senses of the finite. 

We may attach the negative particle to every positive adjective, and form 
As many senses a corresponding negative conception. Whether each of these concepts is 
ofthVfiSte! 6 * 13 realized in fact— i. e., whether there is an existing reality corresponding to 

the concept thus constructed — is a question which is not so easily answered. 
But that with which we have to do at present, is the possible senses or meanings of the term ; 
and it is obvious that there may be as many of these senses as there are possible senses of the 
finite, its logical opposite. As there is the concept of finite in the sense of quantity, so there 
is the infinite of quantity ; and as there is the finite pertaining to causal agency in matter and 
spirit, so there is the concept of the infinite in the same sense. It is most important to keep 



§ 683. FINITE AND CONDITIONED. — INFINITE AND ABSOLUTE. 643 

this fact in mind, and sometimes to ask distinctly of ourselves, or others, in which sense the 
term infinite is used. 

8 682. The unconditioned comes next in order. Logically. 

The uncondi- ? . . • ,.„ . ■ , . ° ^ 

tioned is the it is the negative of the conditioned, and follows its mean- 
not-conditioned. . ° -..i ,.,.. 

mg. i/fte conditioned is that which is in any sense dependent 

upon any thing else, either as a material of its composition, a cawse or 
means of its production, or an object of its psychical activity. Thus, 
silver is a condition of a silver spoon ; heat is the condition of the melt- 
ing of iron; and a material world the condition of the act of sense-per- 
ception. Every condition has this in common with every other, viz., that 
that to which it is the condition cannot be what it is without it, whether 
it is a thing, an act, or an effect. It is therefore said to be limited by 
these conditions. It can neither be, nor be thought of without them. 
They are necessary to it. They must be given or present with it, and are 
therefore called its conditions. 

8 683. The primary signification of the conditioned is that 

Primary mean- ° . 

tngofthecondi- of necessary dependence. Its secondary application is to 
objects of quantity, thus reversing the process through 
which the finite passes. The finite proceeds from a signification of quan- 
tity to one of quality. The conditioned proceeds from quality to quan- 
tity. 

The line and surface are the conditions as well as the limits respectively of 
Applied to quan- the surface and the solid, but solely because they are essentially necessary to 
tity# the conception of each. In the same manner, space and time are the con- 

ditions of extension and duration, because they are essential to the possibility 
of each. They can neither be logically thought of, nor really exist, except as they involve 
space and time as their conditions. All the limits of objects of quantity are also their con- 
ditions, but all the conditions of such objects are not necessarily their limits. The finite, in 
its secondary signification, coincides in its application with the conditioned in its primary 
meaning. The conditioned, in its secondary meaning, may be applied to the same objects 
with the finite in its primary meaning, but not to the same relations of these objects. 

The unconditioned is that which is not conditioned — i. e., not 
tioned means necessarily dependent on other objects for thought, being, or 

act, as a constituent, cause, or object. "Whenever the positive 
can be applied, the negative can be logically conceived as the opposite of 
the conditioned. 

There is a special sense in which these terms are employed by Hamilton, 
Special sense w hich gives them a wider signification and a more extended application, 
with Hamilton. This writer, with Mansel, defines to condition, by to think, and thus makes it 

the equivalent of; to know objects as related, or in a relation. According to 
this definition, every object which is related to any other, is conditioned by that object, and 
the conditioned is equivalent to the related. The unconditioned, in this sense, is equivalent to 
the unrelated ; and if the infinite is equivalent to the unconditioned, then the infinite must bf 
incapable of being related. This is not the signification which we have attached to either of 



650 THE HUMAJf INTELLECT. §685. 

these terras. It is not necessary to find this meaning for them, in order to define them. 
Whether Hamilton's definition is correct, will be discussed hereafter. 

§ 684. The absolute is still another term which is often inter- 
JeveraiSSsS changed with the infinite and the unconditioned. Originally 

and etymologically, it signifies freed from, or severed. This 
signification is purely negative, and waits to be explained by that from 
which it is freed. Thus it was applied, to mean the finished or completed, 
even as the Latin word absolutus, as is thought, was originally used of 
the web when ready to be taken from the loom. Both these senses have 
passed into the modern uses of the term, and determined the varieties of 
its application. First of all, absolute and absolutely is applied to any 
thought or thing as viewed apart from any of its relations — regarded sim- 
ply by itself. This meaning is near akin to that under which it is viewed 
as complete within or by itself Next, it is applied to that which is com- 
plete of itself so far as the relations of dependence are concerned ; to that 
which is necessarily dependent on nothing besides itself. In this sense it 
is very near in meaning to the primary sense of the unconditioned already 
explained. StiM further it is used in the sense of severed or separated 
from all relations whatever, or not related — i. e., not admitting of any 
relations. This sense is the same with that which Hamilton and Mansel 
give to the unconditioned and the infinite. Still again: it is applied to 
relations of quantity, and here the signification of complete or finished 
is applied to the greatest possible or conceivable whole, to the total of all 
existence, whether limited or unlimited in extent and duration. 

In the Hegelian terminology, the absolute takes a special signification from 
The Hegelian the fundamental assumptions of the Hegelian system. When the notion, der 
Begriff, has completed every possible form of development, and, as it were, done 
its utmost possible by the force of the movement essential to itself, the abso- 
lute is reached. This absolute completes every possible form of development, and represents 
every kind of object conceivable and knowable by the mind, from the undetermined notion 
with which it begins, up to the highest form of development, when it becomes self-conscious 
in the human spirit by distinguishing itself from the material universe. The conscious spirit 
thus evolved, and reflecting in itself all these lower forms of existence, is, with these forms, 
the absolute. This is perpetually reproduced by the lower forces of the universe, and itself 
perpetually reproduces all these by its own reflective thinking. 

The three used § 685. Again : these three terms are all used in two appli- 
Sid tb in Thecal- cations, which are often interchanged, but which should be 
Btract. carefully and sharply distinguished. The infinite, the uncon- 

ditioned, and absolute, may denote some property or relation of a being 
in the abstract, or may stand for a being or entity which is believed or 
supposed to be infinite, unconditioned, or absolute. That is, the infinite, 
etc., may stand for the infinitude, the unconditionedness, the absoluteness 
of some being — i. e., as an abstractum or property of a being ; or for that 
which is infinite, unconditioned, or absolute. One of these acceptations 



§ 686. FINITE AND CONDITIONED. — INFINIT? AND ABSOLUTE. 65] 

is obviously very different from the other. The one may readily be con 
founded with the other. 

It is of the greatest importance that the sense in which the word is used is 
The sen sg in 
question should any inquiry or discussion should be distinctly settled, and kept uniformly ant 

known* a c * y steadily before the mind. It is so for two reasons : First, these terms are in 
their nature so vague and abstract, that the danger is very great that one of 
these senses will not be distinguished from the other ; and second, the problem to be solved 
with respect to the terms, changes with every change in their acceptation. If they are 
used only in the sense of abstracta, then the question to be answered is, Can they be conceived 
by the mind ? Is it possible for the finite human intellect to form a concept of the infinite, 
the unconditioned, the absolute ? or, which is the same, Can the finite think the infinite ? If 
these terms are used as the names of an actual being, then the problem is, Does the human 
mind know or believe that that which is called the infinite, the unconditioned, and the abso- 
lute, does actually exist ? If it believes or knows this, by what process does it know it, and 
upon what evidence or grounds ? And again, Can it believe this infinite to exist, without also 
conceiving it or forming a concept of it ? All these questions have been raised with respect 
to the infinite and the absolute. One of them is often interchanged with another. Some 
times they are blended together, and the result has been great confusion of thought an<? 
endless wrangling ; or despair of reaching a solution of any of these questions, or gaining 
any satisfaction in respect to the subject to which they relate. 

§ 686. These distinctions being premised, we observe still 
etc., not negative further, that these concepts and the entities which thej 
represent are not of necessity merely negative conceptions, 
nor are they the products of what is called negative thinking. 

We have seen from our analysis of the terms infinite, unconditioned, 
and absolute, that they are all originally negative in form, and that this 
form, strictly interpreted, would denote the absence or the denial of the 
positive attributes, with which these negatives are combined. From this 
unquestioned fact the inference has been derived that, because the terms 
were negative, the concepts are also negative. 

Locke gives some countenance to this view (Essay, B. II. c. xvii. §§ 13, 16, 18. Cf. 
Arguments of Leibnitz, Nouv. Ess. B. II. c. xvii.), but he does not pusb it to its extreme. It was re- 
Hamilton and served for Hamilton to do this in the amrmation that the unconditioned, both as abso- 
others. j u t e an a infinite, are not only direct negatives of the progressive and the limited but of 

that which is in any way thinkable. " The notion of either unconditioned is negative ; 
the absolute and the infinite can each only be conceived as a negation of the thinkable. In other words, 
of the absolute and infinite we have no conception at alL" * * "Correlatives certainly suggest each 
other, but correlatives may or may not be equally real and positive. * * Thus every positive notion 
(the concept of a thing by what it is) suggests a negative notion (the concept of a thing by what it is not) ; 
and the highest positive notion, the notion of the conceivable, is not without its corresponding negative in 
the notion of the inconceivable. But though these mutually suggest each other, the positive alone ia real ; 
the negative is only an abstraction of the other, and in the highest generality, even an abstraction of 
thought itself." — Discussions, Review of Cousin. 'Kant ought to have shown that the unconditioned' 
"is self contradictory, because it is not a notion, either simple or positive, but only & fasciculus of nega- 
tions—negations of the conditioned in its opposite extremes, and bound together by the aid of language 
and their common character of incomprehensibility/' — Met. Lee. 38. Cf. Calderwood, chap. H. v. Also, 
Mill, Rev. of Ham. Philosophy, c. iv. In these passages Hamilton would seem to concede that it does not 
necessarily follow that because a term is negative, the concept which it denotes must of course be negative,- 
but he argues as though this were true. 



652 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 687. 

But this inference, by whomsoever it is countenanced or made, is manifestly 
the arguments invalid. It does not follow, because a concept is designated by a negative 
not valid. term, that it is not positively conceived ; or, because an object is called by 

such a name, that it is not really known. If the only fact that is prominent 
before the mind be that an object is not something else — whether it be a being or a quality — 
it may be designated by a negative term. This term does not deny its real existence, or that 
it is both knowable and known, for it may assume and imply both. It simply sets forth its con- 
trast with something else. If we see a bat, and say of it, It is not a bird, or, It is not a beast, 
or if the Sandwich Islanders, for lack of name, had called the ox a not-hog, the use of a negative 
appellation would not necessarily authorize the inference of a want of definite conceptions or 
positive knowledge. So, when we gather together the entire sphere of finite being, and, 
stretching our thought beyond, apprehend something which is unlike it and contrasted with it 
by being not finite, not conditioned, and not dependent; we do not confess that we cannot con- 
ceive it or that we do not know it as something positive and real because we emphasize this 
single relation of contrast by the use of such negative terms as the infinite, the unconditioned, 
and the absolute (i. e., the not finitely related). 

Not the objects §687. Again, these concepts are not "negative," in that 
negaS?e U tSnk- tne y are produced by what is called "negative thinking" 
1Dg * This negative thinking is distinguished from the mere think- 

ing of a negative — i. e\, thinking a positive in a negative relation — as 
above explained. According to this theory, our conceptions of the un- 
conditioned, etc., are necessarily negative, because they are the result of 
an attempt to think them which is unsuccessful, and which, whenever it is 
i-epeated, reminds us of the impotence or imbecility of our faculties. 

" Everything conceivable in thought lies between two extremes, which, as contradictory 
Arguments of of eacn °ther, cannot both be true, but of which, as mutual contradictions, one must." 
Hamilton and ' Space cannot be conceived by us either as an infinite or a finite maximum, or an infi- 
ifansel. n ^ e or finite minimum, and yet if it is conceived at all it must be conceived as one of 

these, and forasmuch as we cannot conceive it under either, we have only a negative 
Idea of space, i. e., an idea which results from an impotent attempt to conceive it. The same is true of time, 
end even of causation itself.' — Hamilton, Met. Lee. 38. Mansel illustrates the process of negative thinking 
ttill more definitely. " A negative concept, on the other hand, which is no concept at all, is the attempt 
'■to realize in thought those combinations of attributes of which no corresponding intuition is possible." 
" The only negative ideas with which the logician or metaphysician as such is concerned, are those which 
arise from an attempt to transcend the conditions of all human thought." * * " Such negative notions, 
however, must not be confounded with the absence of all mental activity. They imply at once an attempt 
to think and a failure in that attempt."— Mansel, Proleg. Logica, chap. i. Both Hamilton and Mansel 
concede that there is a belief of the reality of this something which we cannot succeed in thinking or 
knowing. " We are thus taught the salutary lesson that the capacity of thought is not to be constituted 
into the measure of existence, and are warned from recognizing the domain of our knowledge as necessa- 
rily coextensive with the horizon of our faith ; and by a wonderful revelation we are thus, in the very 
consciousness of our inability to conceive aught above the relative and the finite, inspired with a belief in 
the existence of something unconditioned beyond the sphere of all comprehensible reality."— Hamilton, 
Dis. Rev. of Cousin. Mansel says : " We are compelled by the constitution of our minds, to believe in 
the existence of an Absolute and Infinite Being— a belief which appears forced upon us, as the comple- 
ment of our consciousness of the relative and finite."— Limits of Rel. Thought, Lee. 8. 

When these statements are closely scrutinized, it will be seen 
^^untenabie" that this so-called negative thinking is simply a peculiar 

method of knowing or believing, which is unlike, and so the 
negative of, another particular way of knowing or believing. That the 
absolute is believed to exist, is affirmed by both Mansel and Hamilton, as 



§ 689. FINITE AND CONDITIONED. — INFINITE AND ABSOLUTE. 653 

well as by Kant. They contend that it is not known under the limitations 
or relations which are appropriate to thought. Let this be allowed; it 
does not prove that what is known is therefore negatively known, or that 
the process by which it is known is a process of negative thinking. 

8 688. The unconditioned, etc., is not necessarily, as a con- 

The absolute, ° , . , ; ' ' „ , . T . 

etc., not unxeia- cept or as a being, exclusive 01 all relations. It is not un- 
related, or the unrelated. 

This was the doctrine of Spinoza. The comprehensive maxim on which he 
Argument of reste( l *° r tne statement and defence of it was Omnis determinatio est negatio. 
Spinoza, etc. , Every relation implies a distinction into parts related ; the one part cannot 

be the other : hence, the absolute, as related, cannot be complete or perfect 
of itself. It cannot be unconditioned, for, in order to be related, it must require, or, so far aa 
related must be conditioned upon, that which is not itself to which it is related. It cannot be 
unlimited, for, in order to be what it is, or what it is asserted to be in the given relation, it 
must depend on something out of itself. The unconditioned cannot, therefore, be related. 
Hamilton gives the following reasons for the same opinion : " A relation is always a particular 
point of view ; consequently, the things thought as relative and correlative are always thought 
restrictively, in so far as the thought of the one discriminates and excludes the other and 
likewise all things not conceived in the same special or relative point of view." And again ; 
" We conceive God as in the relation of Creator ; and in so far as we merely conceive Him a* 
Creator, we do not conceive Him as unconditioned, as infinite" etc. {Letter to Calderwood,, 
cf. Mansel, Limits of Eel. Thought, Lee. 2.) 

The proper answer to these representations is the following. 
Bepiy. It is not at all essential to the conception of the absolute 

which the human mind requires, or to its reality, that it 
should exclude all relations, but only a certain class of relations, viz., 
those of dependent being or origination. The truly absolute and infinite 
is that which is not dependent on any other being for its existence or its 
activity. It is no part of its perfection, that it should not be distinguished 
in thought from that which it is not in fact ; nor that it should not be 
compared with objects not itself, under the various relations of likeness, 
difference, production, and design, but simply that it should not hold cer- 
tain special relations to all such objects, viz., the relations of dependence. 
These relations imply a certain species of limitation which is incompatible 
with absoluteness or unconditionedness. The existence of those relations 
is not inconsistent with, but is rather essential to its completeness and 
independence. 

§ 689. The unconditioned, etc., is not the sum of all actual 

Th© Eibsoliito ' ' ■ 

etc., not the total or conceivable being. 

This view of the absolute is closely connected with the 
preceding. The denial of all relations to the absolute involves the denial 
of all parts or entities, whether real or thought-parts, which can be related, 
and this requires the conception of the absolute, as the total of all exist- 
ences and conceivable things, the To iv k<u IW, the all which is also one 



THE HUMAN INTELLECT. 



689. 



' 



This position was actually taken by /Spinoza, who was driven by logical 
consistency to acknowledge but one being or substance in the universe. 

Hamilton {Letter to Oalderwood) reasons as though this were the only possible con- 
ception of the true absolute. Mansel, {Limits of Rel. Thought, Lee. 2,) expressly asserts : 
" That which is conceived as absolute and infinite must be conceived as containing within 
itself the sum not only of all actual, but of all possible modes of being. For, if any actual 
mode can be denied of it, it is related to that mode, and limited by it." " The metaphysical 
representation of the Deity, as absolute and infinite, must necessarily, as the profoundest 
metaphysicians have acknowledged, amount to nothing else than the sum of all reality." 

Of this view of the absolute we need only say, that it is not 
qSeS ewnotre " tne on ty possible conception, nor is it the most rationalcon- 

ception which can be taken of it. In a gross quantitative 
sense, we may say that the finite, plus the so-called infinite, equals the 
absolute, and that the result is in conception and in fact the unconditioned 
and the infinite, because nothing can be afiirmed of it in the way of dis- 
tinction or relation. But the question at once returns, Is this the absolute 
and the unconditioned which the mind necessarily receives in thought and 
believes in fact ? This absolute cannot be totality, for it is expressly 
supplied by the mind in addition to the finite. It is required by the mind, 
in order to account for and explain it. It cannot be that or require that 
which it itself accounts for and explains. 

There is a sense of the absolute which is equivalent to the whole of the finite 
The total of j n j ts sev eral parts, with all their possible relations, including all the capacities 
infinite. of development which are possible under the conditions of space and time. 

This is, in fact, no infinite or absolute at all, in the sense in which it ia 
required by the mind, but only the substitution in its place of the largest and most extensive 
quantitative concept which the finite can permit. The dependence is that of each part upon 
all the others, these others being, in like manner, dependent upon the whole combined, while 
the absolute, in this sense, rises above a mere sum of parts, and becomes another expression for 
the finite universe, viewed as an organic whole, and subject to necessary processes of growth 
and development. Whether these processes may go on indefinitely, each preparing the way 
for that which should follow ; or whether, after having accomplished a cycle, they return upon 
one another, repeating themselves as they return, the conception of the absolute is the same, 
viz., the whole of finite beings with limited capacities and dependences. Those who seek the 
infinite and the unconditioned in this conception, substitute the finite for the true infinite. 
They interchange a completed or a completable finite, which they call the absolute, for that 
which is above all finite conditions. 

The ahsoiute not Unconditioned and infinite cannot pertain to the relations of 
tiiyf t Tne f prop- quantity. Quantity, as we have already shown, is, in its 
er absolute. essential nature, measurable and definite. However large may 

be its continuous extent, as in spatial extension, or however great may 
be its sum, as in discrete number, it is in its nature finite. The space and 
time which make extension and duration possible, are not themselves 



§ 691. FINITE AND CONDITIONED. INFINITE AND ABSOLUTE. 655 

quantities, but the conditions of quantity. They are not subject to its 
relations, but they render these relations possible. 

The absolute, § 69 °* The absolute, again, is not a concept or entity which 
of C 'mte°rior e «Ja- * s <livested of all interior relations — a something entirely one 
tlons - and simple. 

Those who contend that the absolute does not admit the idea of parts, 
because parts imply division and relationship, are driven by a logical 
necessity to the conclusion that it must be one and indivisible in parts and 
relations. Hence it has been inferred that the absolute cannot be a 
personal being. A person distinguishes himself from that which is not 
himself, his own being from his acts, and both from their objects, whether 
these be real or spiritual. His acts must be successive to one another also, 
and thus be separable and distinguishable in time. All these divisible 
parts and distinguishable relations are, it is urged, entirely incompatible 
with the concept and reality of the absolute. 

These views are held by those who deny the possibility of personality in God, as well as 
by those who, like Kant, Mansel, and Hamilton, believe that God is personal, but deny that, 
when conceived as personal, He can be known as an absolute Being. 

It is enough to say of this view of the absolute, as has been said already, that the 
absolute does not necessarily exclude the possibility of parts or relations. The absence of 
necessary dependence upon the finite and the complete dependence of the infinite upon itself, 
does not imply such a simplicity or oneness of being, as excludes complexness or personality. 

' , L § 691. Having defined what the absolute is not, Ave proceed 

The absolute, ° ° ' r 

*,ta, are know- next to assert that the absolute and the infinite is Jcnowable 

fcble. 

by a finite mind. Not only can such a mind know that it is, 
but it can know what it is. 

Kant, Hamilton, and Mansel all hold that we cannot know, though we may 
Views of Kant, believe that the infinite exists, simply because the conception of the infinite 
Mansel. ' is not within the grasp of the finite. Kant teaches that the reason why we 

cannot know the infinite, is, that our faculties of knowing both the finite and 
the infinite have merely a subjective necessity and validity, and therefore we cannot trust these 
results as objectively true. Moreover, if we apply them to the infinite, we are involved in 
perpetual antinomies or contradictions. Our only apprehension of the absolute is, therefore, 
by the practical reason, and comes in the way of a moral necessity through the categorical 
imperative, which requires us to receive certain verities as true. Jacobi, Schleiermacher, and 
others say, that we reach these by faith or feeling, and not by knowledge. Hamilton says that 
we find ourselves impotent to know them, in consequence of the contradictions which the 
attempt involves. But he expressly asserts " that the sphere of our belief is much more 
extensive than the sphere of our knowledge ; and therefore, when I deny that the infinite can 
by us be known, I am far from denying that by us it is, must, and ought to be believed. Thig 
I have indeed anxiously evinced, both by reasoning and authority." (Letter to Calderwood.) 
" Thus, by a wonderful revelation, we are thus in the consciousness of our inability to conceive 
aught above the relative and finite, inspired with the belief in the existence of something 
unconditioned, beyond the sphere of all comprehensible reality." (Rev.of Cousin.) It will be 
noticed, that what Hamilton teaches here is not that the absolute cannot be adequately known, 
but that it cannot be known at all, because it cannot be conceived. A similar doctrine 



656 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §692. 

was taught by Peter Browne in his Procedure and Limits of the Human Understanding, and 
Things Divine and Supernatural, etc. 

Of this view, by whomsoever it may be held, it is enough to say, at this point, that it is 
impossible to conceive of an act of faith or belief which does not include the element oi 
knowledge. Faith, or belief, may exclude definite knowledge, reasoned knowledge, etc., but it 
cannot exclude some kind of intellectual apprehension. But of this more will be said here- 
after. 

Herbert Spencer reasons against Hamilton and Mansel, to the conclusion that we can 
Herbert Spencer know that the Infinite exists, but we cannot know what it is. He contends that we can 
dissents from know that it is, because, " To say that we cannot know the Absolute is, by implication, 
t nese - to aflirm that there is an Absolute. In the veiy denial of our power to know what the 

Absolute is, there lies hidden the assumption that it is, etc. Besides that definite con- 
sciousness of which logic formulates the laws, there is also an indefinite consciousness which cannot be 
formulated."— First Principles., P. I. c. iv. § 26. Spencer, it should be observed, contends that we cannot 
know what it is on the grounds urged by Kant and Hamilton, viz., that knowledge, or as he would term 
it, formulated knowledge, is cognizant of the finite alone. He does not explain why, in assuming that the 
Absolute is, we are not compelled to know, in some sense, what it is ; why, in the indefinite consciousness 
out of which the definite consciousness is evolved or formulated, there is not necessarily implied that the 
one bears some relation to the other. 

It deserves to be noticed, that what Spencer claims for knowledge he denies to faith. Indeed, he shuts 
the door forever upon all trustworthy knowledge of* the Absolute. All our conceptions of the what must, 
in his view, be forever inadequate. They are simply the best symbols which we can shape concerning 
it, the growth of our individual development or of that of our age "concerning which we can only know that 
while one is better than another, they are all necessarily false, because certain to be outgrown and laid 
aside. It would seem that a writer who affirms this so positively of the Infinite, and of the capacities of 
the human race to know it for all future time, must have, somehow, formulated the knowledge that he 
expresses so positively. 

It is curious to notice that Hobbes makes the same distinction between the knowledge 

that and the knowledge what, though not in precisely the same meaning. " And foras- 

Infinite ° U ^ much as God Almighty is incomprehensible, it followeth that we can have no conception or 

image of the Deity ; and consequently all his Attributes signify our inability and defect 

of Power to conceive any thing concerning his nature, and not any conception of the 

same, except only this, that there is a God : For the effects we acknowledge naturally, do include a power 

of their producing, before they were produced; and that Power presupposeth something existent that 

hath such power," etc. " And thus all that will consider may know that God is, though not what he is." — 

Of Human Nature, chap. 11. 

We observe that Hobbes must mean by a knowledge of the what, a complete and defined knowledge, 
for he says that there is one what which we do know of God, viz., that he is the producer of all things. 



The absolute § 692- Against these views, we contend that the absolute is 
b^Si^magfna* knowable — that man can both know that it is and what it is. 
tlon# But, first of all, we would define the sense in which it cannot 

be Jcnown, either as that or what. 

(a.) It cannot be known by the imagination, either as representative or 
creative. The imagination can only picture that which is limited by space 
and time, and which is possessed of limited powers of matter or spirit. The 
absolute and infinite is not spatial or enduring, and has not the attributes 
of matter or spirit, as limited by space and time. It cannot, therefore, be 
either imaged or pictured. It can only be known as related to that which is 
in time and space, which is material and spiritual, etc. A relation cannot 
be imaged, though related finite objects can be. While, therefore, it is 
necessary to use the imagination in order to know the absolute, because it 
pictures the finite objects which suppose and require the infinite and abso- 



§ 692. FINITE AND CONDITIONED. — INFINITE AND ABSOLUTE. 657 

lute, the imagination cannot picture the absolute itself— i e., in any 
proper or useful sense. 

It would be more exact to say that the analogies between any finite objects 
The proposition and the infinite are so general and attenuated, that the imagination can 
qualified. render no available or efficient service by introducing the images of the 

finite. It is true that, if we can know what the absolute is, we can form 
some notion of it, and this we can do only by means of some relation which it holds to the 
finite. It is true, also, that every relation, however general, can be imaged or illustrated by 
some finite object in which it is exemplified. In other words, the infinite, to be known as a 
what, must be known in some points of likeness to the finite ; but the likeness may be so very 
general, and the unlikenesses or differences so numerous and striking, that the attempt to 
image the one by the other will fail to produce the advantages which commonly accrue from 
the process, while the finite image will suggest so many misleading and bewildering associa- 
tions, as to embarrass and confuse the mind. (§ 371.) 

This explains why such writers as Bishop Brown, who has been followed by Whately and 
others, contend that, while there is no proper similarity, there is an analogy between the finite 
and the infinite, or the human and the divine. The alleged analogy, it is obvious, is only a 
more general similarity, which, so far as it goes, allows of classification and inference, but 
which we are exceedingly liable to mistake and overestimate. Thus interpreted, their doc- 
trine, and the cautions which it embodies, is true and salutary, and needs to be continually 
brought to mind. 

Thus, the absolute, if it be any thing, is a being or entity in the largest sense of the term > 
that is, it is like every finite being in this one respect, that it is. But it is of no avail to 
image so vague and general a notion as this by any finite being. But again, it is, as we shall 
see, that on which every finite being, and the finite universe as a whole, depend for theiff 
existence, and their power to act. The general relation of dependence holds between on<* 
finite object and another, in the several forms of cause, reason, and constituent. 

But to ima^e the relation of dependence which exists be- 

Why of no use , . n . , , n . \ , 

to image the ab- tween the mnnite and the finite by the special and limited 

solute 

examples of it, such as exist between different limited beings, 
is either superfluous or misleading. The relation may be known as so 
general, like that of simple entity, as not to need an example ; or the use 
of an example introduces many extraneous and unimportant circumstances,, 
which are yet conceived as essential to the relation in question. Thus, 
when it is reasoned that self-existence, personality, the creation of another 
than itself, the possession of a complex nature — one or all, are incompatible 
with the true infinite and unconditioned, the reasoning is founded on the 
attempted exemplification of the infinite by the finite, and on the unessen- 
tial accessories which the image presents. Logically expressed, it is a case' 
of fallacia accidentis. 

The antinomies of Kant and the essential contradictions of Hamilton, each of which secm< 
The antinomies necessary to the mind, and each of which exclude the other, are all made by the mind- 
of Kant and itself in the attempt to illustrate the infinite by the finite. The antinomies of Kant 
Hamilton. are incompatibilities between an image and a relation which the image exemplifies, ot 

between two images adduced to illustrate different relations, or between two concept* 
which are not both necessary to the mind. The solution of them is to be found in a re-statement of th« 

42 



G58 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 693. 

conceptions between which these incompatibilities are said to exist. Thus, for example, in the alleged an- 
tinomy involved in the propositions the world is in time and space and is neither finite nor infinite ; the con- 
tradiction lies between a fact or image borrowed from perception and experience and an alleged a priori 
necessity. But the incompatibility of the one with the other arises from a misconception of what is involved 
in our conception of the infinite, a confounding of the extended in space with space itself. "When Hamilton 
says we must conceive of space as a bounded or not bounded sphere, he introduces the image of an object 
existing in space and limited in space, in order to illustrate space itself, and confounds the one with the 
other. To introduce the image of an extended object in order to show that space exists and holds some 
relation to every extended object is legitimate, but to substitute the limited, i. e. an extended object, for 
the true unlimited, i. e. the space which makes extension possible, and then to be embarrassed by the in- 
compatibilities of our own creation, is to fall into the very serious error of confounding the image with the 
notion (the Anschauung with the Begriff), against which Hamilton expressly cautions his pupils. 

The absolute, § 693. We observe still further, (b.) that the absolute, etc., 
atauce^OTio^ though knowable, is not a notion that is the product of 
caiiy defined. reasoning, inductive or deductive, or can be defined in a 
system of logical classification. 

It cannot be inferred by induction, because, as has been shown, it is 
assumed in the very process of induction, as its necessary condition. 
Induction has no meaning and no validity, unless we assume that the 
universe is constituted in such a way as to presuppose an absolute and 
unconditioned originator of its forces and laws. 

It cannot be deduced by syllogistic reasoning, because, as has been 
shown, all deduction rests either on the previous process of induction, or 
on the intuitions of time and space. But induction requires the absolute 
as its condition. 

]N"or can the concept be denned for the ends of logical classification. 
The infinite is not properly coordinate with the finite, for the reason that 
it must be assumed as the ground of all such classification. Every notion 
or concept of every finite existence implies the unconditioned, and holds 
fcome relation to it, but these relations are not therefore used in defining 
the notion for logical or scientific ends. The relations of substance and 
attribute, as used in such definition and classification, are applicable only 
to objects, which are dependent for their existence and their relations on 
the fixed conditions of finite being. They imply the presence of time and 
space relations, and the limitation of the powers of created beings by the 
laws which are determined by these relations. The cause and effect, the 
adaptations and ends, which logic usually recognizes in its operations, are 
fixed in a similar manner by settled forces and laws.' 

Again : the unconditioned and the absolute cannot be called a summum genus, under 
which are ranged the various ranks of the conditioned and the limited. It holds certain 
common relations to every species, but these relations are not generic. Space is not generic 
to all extended objects, though it is essential to the conception and reality of all. Time is not 
generic to enduring objects, though it is the condition of them all. God is not a mere 
$ummum genus — a highest abstraction, including all finite beings under itself— though lie is 
the necessary ground of the existence of each and of all. 

The so-called categories — i. e., generic relations which are supreme and final in scientific 
definition and classification— cannot be applied to the infinite, because the infinite is required 



§694. FINITE AND CONDITIONED. — INFINITE AND ABSOLUTE. 659 

and assumed for the explanation of these very categories. These categories rest upon th* 
infinite, and presuppose it. 

The absolute the § ®®^' ^ e nex ^ an i rin positively that the absolute is and 
un7te! ate ° f the can ^ e known as the correlate which must be necessarily 
assumed to explain and account for the finite universe. 
If the absolute is necessary to explain the finite, then it holds some 
relations to it. If it is its correlate, it must be connected with it by some 
relations. What these relations are, it is not needful to inquire. All that 
we need here to urge, is, that it is so far from being true, because it is 
absolute, it is not related, that, on the contrary, it cannot be the absolute 
without being known as related. We cannot know that it is, without 
knowing, to a certain degree, what it is. If it is necessary to the mind 
to assume the absolute in order to explain the finite, then the finite is cer- 
tainly explained by these relations which it holds to the absolute. These 
relations must be real, else our knowledge is a fiction. They must be 
capable of expression in language. The relations between the finite and 
the infinite need not, of course, be the same as those which exist between 
the finite and the finite, but they must be real and cognizable relations. 



We have already shown that the categories required for scientific knowledge 
Of course related cannot be applied to the infinite, but it does not follow that there may not 

be other relations which may be applied to it. Whether these have not also 

some possible application to the finite, deserves a question. It would seem 
that, if this were not the case, then the language which we apply to the finite could not, with 
any meaning, be applied to the infinite. Substance and attributes, the first as permanent 
under the fixed constitution of things, and the second as defining classes and species under 
this constitution, are not applicable to the self-existent originator of the finite ; but being and 
action are applicable to both, though the concrete to which they are applied is, in the one 
case, far more full in import and superior in dignity than in the other. A self-existent being 
is a being as truly and far more eminently than a dependent being, but both are beings. He 
has powers no less really than the beings whose existence he not only originates, but whose 
capacities to act he imparts. To originate, to produce, or to create, are functions which are 
affirmable of one who originates his own existence and his very power to act, as truly as of 
one whose power to produce or to act is originated by another. 

It is not philosophical to assert that, when we affirm a relation of the infinite, 
Relations do not we must connect with it all those limitations which pertain to a similar rela- 
tioD. " tion in the finite. This would be the same as to say that there can be no 

likeness where there is a difference, which is equivalent to asserting that 
there can be no generalization at all. We need not carry over to the infinite the misleading 
images which belong to the finite, nor the delusive associations which pertinaciously adhere to 
it ; but to deny that there are relations which are common to the two, is to deny that we can 
know the infinite at all. To say, with Herbert Spencer, that we cannot believe in a Creator, 
because if we do, we must conceive of Him as a carpenter, working with tools and upon mate- 
rials provided, and to dispose of the belief in creative energy, by the phrase, the carpenter 
theory, is to betray some ignorance of generalization, if not more serious defects in respect 
of both taste and fairness. Even an " indefinite consciousness " that the infinite is, must 
Involve some knowledge of its relations. 



660 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. § 696. 

§ 695. The apprehension of the absolute is knowledge, and 

The absolute ap- . . , _ T . 

prehended by not faith or feeling. 

Hamilton opposes the one to the other, as faith to knowl 
edge, because he affirms that to know is always "to condition;" and 
therefore if we know the unconditioned, we must condition the uncon- 
ditioned, and limit the infinite. His doctrine is, that 'we believe the 
infinite, but do not know it to be. The sphere of our faith, is wider than 
the sphere of our knowledge.' But to know as related, is not the same as 
to condition in the special meaning in which the unconditioned and the 
infinite are opposed to the conditioned and the finite. The knowledge of 
the unconditioned may be & priori, intuitive, and necessary, but it is 
knowledge nevertheless. It may be higher than any reasoned or logically 
defined knowedge, but it is still knowledge. 

To call it faith, in any but a purely technical and private sense of the word, is to put it 
out of all relation to knowledge. To contrast it with knowledge in the essential characteristics 
of knowledge, is to weaken the very foundations on which both knowledge and science are 
made to rest. Especially is this the case, if this so-called faith is referred to an impotence of 
the intellect, and is made to depend on the conscious imbecility and known limitations of th« 
powers. This is so far from being true, that, to know in this way, is to know in the highes' 
sense possible to the mind. For if we cannot assume the infinite, we can neither define no - 
reason the finite. Without the intuition of the unconditioned, it is impossible to have am 
grounded science of the conditioned. 

8 696. But though we have a real and proper knowledge of 

Not known ex- f ° r r to n 

haustiveiy or the absolute, we can by no means have an adequate and ex- 
haustive, or what is often called an absolute knowledge of it. 
But this forms no objection to the reality of this knowledge. Indeed, an 
absolute knowledge, even of the finite, is only ideally conceivable, but, in fact, 
impossible. An absolute knowledge of all the relations of an individual 
object — e. g., a mass of rock, a tree, an animal, or a man, implies a com- 
plete mastery of all the relations which each holds to every other object 
in the universe, in respect to its properties and ends — in other words, an 
exhaustive knowledge of the universe itself. The most sagacious and 
widely-reaching philosopher does not pretend to have attained such knowl- 
edge. He does not believe even, that the assembled knowledge of all 
the students of matter and spirit represents such a mastery over the 
knowable. He does not pretend to an exhaustive knowledge even of the 
general properties and laws which constitute and rule the universe. He 
knows, concerning this universe, that there is much that is knowable 
which is not yet known. How does he know this ? Does the fact that it 
is ideally knowable, prove that it will be actually known ? Does the fact 
that these relations are ideally finite prove that they will, in fact, ever be 
mastered by any finite intellect ? If not, then, in the finite there is to 
man the as yet unmastered and perhaps the unmasterable ; and that is to 
him the infinite. 



§ 699. FINITE AND CONDITIONED. — INFINITE AND ABSOLUTE. 661 

For man, the unexhausted finite must ever be as the infinite. But the fact that 

The finite uni- ^ e k nowg the finite in part, is not inconsistent with the proposition that he 

verse infinite to r ' , ,.„.,. 

our knowledge. knows it in truth. Nor ought the fact that he knows the infinite but in part, 

to be used to show that, so far as he knows it, he does not know it as it is 

To man there is, in both finite and infinite, a background always unexplored. Perhaps in the 

nnite it never can be explored by man. If so, then, even the finite is as the infinite to him. 

The limited forest, into the mazes of which the child has not yet penetrated, the shallow 

abyss the depths of which he has not ventured to sound, are to him the symbol of infinitude 

So is the universe, finite though it be, as yet infinite to the philosopher, boast though he mav 

of absolute knowledge, or reject though he will the possibility of an infinite which is placeo 

forever beyond the mastery of every finite intellect. 

self- existence § 69 ^- ^ n both finite and infinite, there is a common mys- 
finTte °and° the tei 7> which cannot be overcome, and that is the mystery of 
infinita self-existence. Whether we transform the finite into the so- 

called infinite, by making of its powers and capacities of self-development 
an ideal absolute without intelligence or personality, or whether we accept 
as the real absolute a rational person, either must be self-existent. It does 
not relieve the mystery, to accept the fact of self-evolved and self-evolving 
forces and laws ; nor does it increase it, to accept the fact of a self-existent 
creating intelligence whom we assume to explain the order and thought of 
the finite universe. 

Self-existence is as inexplicable when it is divided and diffused among the separate 
integers of a countless multitude of mutually developed and dependent forces, beings, and 
laws, as when it is gathered and centered into one thinking and acting person. Indeed, self- 
existence, and not personality or intelligence, constitutes the real mystery as it emphasizes the 
peculiar import of the absolute and the unconditioned. If, then, we must accept a self-existent 
rtbsolute, if we know that it is, and can know in a degree what it is, the inquiry returns, What 
Absolute must we assume, and on what grounds do we assume that it is ? To this we reply : 

§ 698. The absolute is a thinking agent. The universe is a 
SdnkS^nt 3, thought as well as a thing. As fraught with design, it reveals 

thought as well as force. The thought includes the origina- 
tion of the forces and their laws, as well as the combination and use of 
them. These thoughts must include the whole universe ; it follows then 
that the universe is controlled by a single thought, or the thought of an 
individual thinker. If gravitation everywhere prevails, and gravitation is 
a thought as well as a thing, then the universe, so far as it depends on and 
is affected by gravitation, is a single thought. But a thought implies a 
thinking agent, and if the universe is a single thought, it was thought by 
one thinking agent. That this thinking person should be self-existent, is, 
as we have seen, no greater mystery than a self-existent thing. 
Must be assumed § 699 - We assume that this absolute exists, in order that 
thoiignt X and a sc£ thought and science may be possible. We do not demonstrate 
ence - his being by deduction, because we must believe it in order 

to reason deductively. We do not infer it by induction, because indue- 



662 THE HUMAN INTELLECT. §099 

tion supposes it ; but we show that every man. who believes in either, or in 
both, must assume it, or give up his confidence in both these processes and 
their results. We do not demonstrate that God exists, but that every man 
must assume that He is. We analyze the several processes of knowledge 
into their underlying assumptions, and we find that the assumption which 
underlies them all is a self-existent intelligence, who not only can be 
known by man, but must be known by man in order that man may know 
any thing besides. In analyzing a psychological process, we develop and 
demonstrate a metaphysical truth, and that is the truth which the un- 
sophisticated intellect of child and man requires and accepts, that there is 
a self-existent personal intelligence, on whom the universe depends for the 
beings and relations of which it consists. We are not alone justified, 
we are compelled to conclude our analysis of the human intellect with the 
assertion, that its various powers and processes suppose and assume that 
there is an uncreated thinker, whose thoughts can be interpreted by the 
human intellect which is made in His image. 

But it may be asked, If there is an unconditioned person, what are space and time ? Are 
these also infinite and unconditioned ? If so, are there not three infinities, each independent 
of the other in certain relations, while each, in other respects, limits the other ? If this be 
so, there is no single unconditioned, but time, space, and God taken together form the abso- 
lute when combined in one as mutally dependent. This, it might be urged, involves a sort 
of Pantheism, which is logical, if not material ; a Pantheism which limits the thoughts and 
plans of God, if not His creative activity, by the fixed conditions of space and time. 

We reply : Time and space are, as has been shown, not limited or finite, as are extended 
matter and enduring spirit. In so far, they are infinite in the sense explained. Moreover, 
they must be assumed as the correlates which condition the possibility of all finite and created 
being (§ 582) ; with respect to these they are themselves unconditioned. But we have shown 
(§ 689) that the proper unconditioned and absolute do not pertain to relations of quantity, 
though it may be described by them (§ 168), but that it describes absolute independence for 
existence and the power to act. We know too little of time and space to assert that, in any 
such relation, they are independent of God. They are used as the means of measuring His 
acts, of regulating the mightiest agents which He creates, and of manifesting many of His 
most comprehensive designs (§ 629). They are made the actual condition of finite being, in 
any and every form. We may say of time and space that they are as truly the thoughts of 
God, as the powers which they measure and control. If we cannot bring them under the 
categories of created being for the reasons already given (§ 585), we have no reason to ascribe 
to them self-existence, but may certainly know that whatever they are, they do not share in 
that independent self-existence which we ascribe to Him alone who is the living and true God. 




INDEX. 



Abbot, T. K., Review of Berkeley's Theory of 

Vision, 165. 
Abelard, doctrine of universals, 406. 
Absolute, (see Infinite ;) original meaning of, 650 ; 
tbe Hegelian sense, do. ; used in the concrete 
and abstract, 650. 
Abstract thinking, 384 ; concepts, 394. 
Abstraction, 389. 

Acquired sense-perceptions, chapter on, 153-177; 
examples of, 158; defined, 159; importance of, 
159 ; many gained very early, 159 ; of smell and 
hearing, 160 ; of sight, 161 ; of distance, of mag- 
nitude, 161, 2 ; of size, 162 ; mistaken judgments 
of both, 163 ; of percepts appropriate to touch, 
163, 4 ; of place of sensations, 166 ; of control of 
. bodily motions, 166, 7 ; provisions for, 167, 8 ; how- 
controlled, 1C8-1 70 ; involve memory, 173, and 
induction, do.; infants capable of such induc- 
tions, 174, 5 ; objections, 175, 6, from the case of 
animals, 166, 7 ; of percepts of eye and hand, 186 ; 
other acquisitions of the infant, 189. 

Activity of the soul, essential to its nature, 23 ; essen- 
tial to knowledge, 61 ; in sense-perception, chapter 
on, 210-220; is attested by consciousness, 211; 
varies in energy, 211, 2 ; success depends on at- 
tention, 212 ; differs in different men, 212, 3 ; 
shown in innervation of organs, 213 ; directed 
to different objects, 214 ; selects and combines, 
214 ; separates single objects in infancy, 215 ; 
continued througb life, 216 ; illustrated in dif- 
ferent men, 217 ; a limited activity, 21S ; easily 
performed, do. 

Adaptation, 517 ; how related to design, do. 

Esthetics, its relations to psychology, 14. 

Agassiz, on species, 426 ; on classification, 492. 

Albertus Magnus, on universals, 406. 

Analogy of nature, 472. 

Analysis, involved in knowledge, 67. 

Analytical reasoning in mathematics, 454. 

Anthropology, defined, 7 ; subdivided, do. ; assumes 
final cause, 634. 

Antinomies of Kant, and Hamilton 564, 5. 

Apperception, 85, 6. 

Aristotle, view of life, 29 ; division of powers of the 
soul, 49; theory of sense-perception, 224; enu- 
meration of laws of association, 276 ; on univer- 
sals, 404, 5 ; regarded the middle term as causal, 
451 ; fourfold division of causes, 593 ; on primary 
and secondary qualities, 637. 

Arnauld, theory of sense-perception, 229. 

Association of ideas, 253, 4 ; chapter on, 270-300 ; 



other terms for, 270 ; importance and mystery 
of, do. ; method of discussion, 271 ; division of, 
do.; not explained by bodily organization, 272 ; 
defect of all physiological explanations, 273 ; 
actual influence of the body, do. ; exercised by 
means of psychical states, 274 ; vital sensations 
may act as links of association, 274, 5 ; ideas do 
not attract one another, 275 ; crude statements 
of Hobbes and others, 275, 6 ; relations do not 
attract ideas, 276; relations stated as three, 
seven, two, and one, 276, 7 ; law of redintegra- 
tion, 279 ; how far satisfactory 279, 80 ; objec- 
tion, 281, 2 ; the real solution, 282 ; explains 
phenomena, 282-5; associations with sensible 
objects, 283 ; of home, 234 ; relations of acquisi- 
tion and reproduction the same, 285, 6 ; sec- 
ondary laws of association defined and named, 
286; discussed, 286-8; apparent exceptions to, 
288 ; Hobbes' often-quoted illustration, do. ; 
two theories in explanation, 289; capable of 
interruption and control, 290, 1 ; not the only 
power of the soul, 291, 2 ; indirectly controlled, 

292 ; relation to habits, question concerning, 

293 ; higher and lower laws of, 296 ; prevalence 
of higher, do. ; of lower, 297 ; casual associa- 
tions, 298 ; in changes of fashions, do. ; the 
moral influence of, do. ; influence on language, 
299 ; on philosophy, do. 

Associational psychology, 56-59; prominent wri- 
ters, 55 ; explanation of necessary truths, 57 ; 
fundamental error, do.; usually materialistic, 
58 ; Herbart's relation to, do. 

Associational school, their views of intuitions, 520. 

Astronomy, discoveries in, 476, 7. 

Atomists' explanation of life, 29. 

Attention defined, 69 ; beginnings of, 180, 181 ; Stew- 
art's theory, 207 ; can be given to two objects 
at once, 208 ; objections, 208 ; is the utmost at- 
tention possible to more than one 1 209. 

Attribute, relations most frequently used, 195 ; sen- 
sations so used, do. ; etymology and meaning of, 
621 ; in the abstract, 623 ; material, indicate but 
do not constitute matter, 630. 

Auxiliary lines in geometry, 460, 1. 

Axioms, mathematical, 458; Analytical and synthet- 
ical, 459; geometrical question concerning, 459k. 

Bacon, services for induction, 494 ; on final cause, 
603 ; just interpretation of his views, do. 

Bailey, S., review of Berkeley's theory of vision, 
165. 



664 



INDEX. 



Bain, A., an associationalist, 56. 

Being, correlate of knowledge, 64 ; variety of, do. ; 
some more lasting and important, do. ; con- 
trasted with phenomenon, do. ; one kind mistak- 
en for another, do. ; not known apart from rela- 
tions, 66 ; category of, 526 ; fundamental in what 
sense, 527 ; different sorts of, do. ; known in dif- 
ferent ways, do. ; the most abstract, do. ; how 
explained, do. ; concrete known first, 528 ; 
knowledge of, expressed in propositions, 528 ; not 
a relation, do. ; cannot he defined, do. ; treated 
as an attribute, 529 ; indeterminate, do. ; both 
spiritual and material, directly known, 636. 

Bern's mnemonics, 323. 

Beneke, consciousness of ego, 94 ; views of repeated 
sense-perceptions, 292. 

Berkeley's view of sensation, 129 ; theory of vision 
reviewed, 165, 6 ; theory of sense-perception, 
232, 3 ; doctrine of the concept, 408. 

Biran, de, M., consciousness of ego ; theory of sense- 
perception, 242 ; views of intuitions, 521 ; theory 
of causation, 583-586 ; concerns the origin and 
universality of the relation, 583, 4; how far 
correct, 584, 5. 

Black's, Dr., discovery of carbonic acid gas, 475. 

Blind, the, when restored to sight, 163-165 ; how they 
judge of form, size, etc., 165 ; the reports of, 
critically noticed, 191, 2. 

Bodily organism, 123, 4. 

Boethius, on universals, 405. 

Bonnet, theory of vibration, 272. 

Boweh, Prof. Francis, on causation, 586. 

Brain, the organ of the soul, 56. 

Brown, Dr. T., denies consciousness of ego, 94 ; ad- 
mits it, 96 ; theory of tactual and other sensa- 
tions, 150 ; theory noticed, 184; theory of sense- 
perception, 235 ; of the nature of the concept, 
409 ; of intuitions, 520, 1 ; theory of causation, 
575. 

Buxton, Sir T. F., advice on memory, 321. 

Carneades, illustration of association, 276. 

Categories. (See Intuition.) 

Causation, 517; and causality, chapter on, 569-592 ; 
as a principle and law distinguished, 570 ; the 
principle of, intuitively evident, 572 ; reasons 
for, 572, 3 ; resolved into a time-relation, 574- 
578 ; by Hume, 574 ; by Brown, 575 ; by J. S. 
Mill, 576 ; not a relation of time, 578 ; Hamil- 
ton's tabular view of theories of, 579 ; not ex- 
plained by induction, 579 ; nor by association, 
580 ; not gained by experience, inner or outer, 
581 ; Locke's views, do. ; relations of, to those of 
Mill and Hume, 582 ; views of K. Collard and M. 
de Biran, 582 ; theory of de Biran, 583, 4 ; two 
positions of, 583, 4 ; how far correct, 584-586 ; 
denied to matter, 586 ; Prof. Bowen's view, do. ; 
reasons against, 587 ; denied to created spirits, 
588 ; MaLebranche, do. ; theories d priori, 588- 
692 ; explained by law of contradiction, 588 ; 
Wolf, Kant, Hegel, etc., 588, 9 ; Hamilton's ex- 
planation by the law of the conditioned, 589, 
iqq. : Mansel's version of, 590 ; both related to 
Xant, do. ; objections to, 591 ; divided into for- 



mal, material, efficient, and final, 592 ; conclu- 
sion, true doctrine of, 592. 

Cause distinguished from condition, 570. 

Cerebralists. (See Cerebral Psychology.)- 

Cerebral Psychology, 545 ; repeated, do. ; supposea 
consciousness, 55. 

Clarke, S., definition of space and time, 557. 

Classification, how arises, 397 ; by children and sav- 
ages, 398 ; in science, 398, 9 ; relations to know- 
ledge, 400 ; significance of, 401 ; assumes final 
cause, 608. 

Coleridge, S. T., view of philosophical consciousness, 
111, 2 ; on the arts of memory, 323. 

Complex notions, 395. 

Comte, A., views of Psychology, 51; contempt for 
final cause, 604. 

Concept, formation of, chapter on, 388-403 ; of mate- 
rial objects, 338 ; when it begins, do. ; similarity 
discerned, do. ; involves analysis, 389 ; attributes 
distinguished, do. ; called abstraction, do. ; to pre- 
scind, do. ; comparison, do. ; generalization, do. ; 
predication,390 ; assumes substance and attribute, 
390 ; appellations concept, 391 ; and notion, do. ; 
not a percept, do. ; nor an image, 392 ; relative, 
do. ; a mental product, do. ; universal, do. ; predi- 
cate, do. ; why symbolic, 393 ; more than a name, 
do.; respects attributes only, do. ; concrete and 
abstract, 394 ; simple and complex, 395 ; content 
and extent, 396 ; mutual relations of the two, 
397 ; how far they add to knowledge, 400 ; vary- 
ing import of, 402 ; theories of nature of, chapter 
on, 403-418 ; Socrates and Plato on, 403 ; Aris- 
totle, 404; Porphyry, Boethius, the Realists, 
Nominalists, and Conceptualists, Eric of Au- 
xerre, Boscellinus, 405 ; "William of Cbampeaux, 
Abelard, Albertus Magnus, Thomas Aquinas, 
Duns Scotus, "William of Occam, 406 ; Thomas 
Hobbes, 407 ; John Locke, G. W. Leibnitz, Geo. 
Berkeley and D. Hume, 408 ; T. Beid and D. 
Stewart, Dr. T. Brown, Sir W. Hamilton, 408 ; J. 
S. Mill, 410 ; H. Spencer, I. Kant, J. G. Fichtc, 
411 ; Hegel, Herbart, 412 ; nature of, chapter 
on, 413-420; distinguished from the act, 413; 
implies substance and attribute, do. ; is relative, 

414 ; founded on similarity, do. ; leads to names, 

415 ; classifies, do. ; gives import to names, 416 ; 
the import explained by individuals, do. ; refer- 
able to an image, 417 ; does not allow inconsis- 
tent elements, 418 ; very general concepts most 
need to be imaged, 419 ; value of names for, 419 
-422; formed by judgment, 430; how related to 
it, 432 ; in mathematics, 458 ; of space and time 
objects, 550 ; mathematical, 551 ; of geometry, 
551 ; of number, 552 ; of space and time, 558 ; 
formed by final cause, 607. 

Conceptualists, the, 405 ; strife adjusted, 417. 

Concrete thinking, 384 ; concepts, 394. 

Condillac and school, on consciousness of ego, 94 ; 
on the origin of knowledge, 520. 

Condillac, theory of sense-perception, 240. 

Conditioned. (See Infinite.) 

Consciousness, and natural consciousness, chaptej 
on, 83-102; denned, 83 ; extends to acts and 
states, do.; applied to the power and acts, 83, 4; 



INDEX. 



665 



applied to any act of knowledge, 84 ; a collective 
term for all the intellectual states, 84 ; meta- 
phorical uses of, 84 ; proper meaning, 85 ; called 
inner sense, do. ; called apperception, do.; Ger- 
man equivalent for, 86 ; called reflection, 86 ; 
exercised in two forms, 87 ; the two defined, 87, 
8 ; natural consciousness as an act, 88 ; an act 
of knowledge, do. ; results in a. product, 89 ; is 
sui generis, do. ; peculiarity in language, 90 ; con- 
sciousness, the object, 90, 1 ; object complex, 91 ; 
elements threefold, 91 ; relations to one an- 
other, 91, 2 ; Herbart's doctrine of, 92 ; elements 
not regarded with equal attention, 93 ; the ac- 
tivity an object, 93 ; also the ego, 93 ; 95, 6 ; 
different views, 93, 4, 5 ; proof that we are con- 
scious of the ego, 95, 6 ; unconscious admissions, 
96 ; are we conscious of objects 1 96, 7 ; summary 
of doctrine of consciousness, 97, 8 ; object of c. 
a condition of being, 98; Descartes' doctrine, 98; 
consciousness does not create the state it knows, 
99 ; c. involves all the categories, 99 ; develop- 
ment and growth of c, 100 ; exercised more or 
less completely in different persons, 102 ; capacity 
for, not developed, 102 ; not a product of circum- 
stances, 102 ; latent modifications of, 103 ; capa- 
ble of degrees, 103 ; Leibnitz's doctrine of, 103, 4 ; 
philosophical or reflective, 104 ; characterized by 
attention, 104, 5 ; the morbid consciousness in 
children, hypochondriacs, etc., 105 ; egoistic con- 
sciousness, 106 ; ethical type, do. ; in the re- 
flective, attention is persistent, 106 ; comprehen- 
sive, 107, 8 ; comparative and classifying, 108 ; 
interpretive, do. ; searches for conditions and 
laws, 109 ; relations to natural consciousness, 
109 ; imparts new knowledge, 110 ; in what sense, 
do.; Coleridge's view of the two, 111 ; relations 
of language to each, 112 ; does not create phe- 
nomena, do. ; dangers from exact terminology, 
112 ; psychology, tried by the language of 
common life, 113, 4 ; by the actions, 114 ; condi- 
tions of the successful interpretation of both, 114, 
5 ; why men are so positive in their philosophical 
opinions, 115 ; explains slow progress of psycho- 
logy, 115, 6; explains difficulties in studying 

Conservative faculty. (See Memory.) 
psychology, 117, 8. 

Content, of notion, 395 ; of mathematical concepts, 
457. 

Contradiction, law of, 535. 

Copernicus, discovery, 477. 

Copula, force of, 433-5. 

Correlation of forces, 556. 

Cousin, consciousness of ego, 94 ; on origin of know- 
ledge, 504 ; views of intuition, 521. 

Critical or speculative stage of knowledge, 72-74. 

Cuvier's researches, assumed final cause, 596. 

Dalton's discovery of chemical equivalents, 475. 

Dana, on species, 426. 

Darwin, on species, 426 ; seems to exclude final 

cause, 604 ; but really assumes it, 634. 
Davy's discovery, 475. 
Deaf mutes, reason why they cannot speak, 169; 

form concepts without language. 



Deduction, chapter on, 439-453 ; how related to in« 
duction, 441, 2 ; how to be treated, 443 ; our in- 
quiry, 443 ; its two forms, 443 ; is not explained 
by the dictum de omni et nullo, 448 ; but rests on 
the relation of reason to consequent, 449 ; this 
rests on causation, 450 ; varieties of, chapter on, 
454-469 ; various classes of, 454, 5 ; distinguished 
from the process of preparation, 465, 6 ; does it 
add to cur knowledge 1 457, 8. 

Definition, 395 ; in mathematics, 457. 

Democritus, theory of sense-perception, 223. 

Descartes, cogito, ergo sum, 93 ; theory of sense-per- 
ception, 226 ; on the mind's constant activity, 
334 ; on innate ideas, 519 ; on final cause, 603 ; 
on primary and secondary qualities, 637. 

Descartes, view of life, 30. 

Design, or final cause, chapter on, 592-619 ; (see Final 
Cause ;) how related to adaptation, 593 ; alon3 
explains permanent substance, 635 ; required to 
explain development, 636. 

Development, of the intellect explained, 70 ; order 
and stages of, 73, 4 ; of consciousness, stages of, 
100, 1 ; of sense-perception, 178-192 ; of vision, 
186. 

Dianoetic faculty, 81. 

Dictum de omni et nullo, 44S ; does not entirely ex- 
plain the syllogism, 448. 

Diogenes of Apollonia, theory of sense-perception, 
222. 

Discovery and Invention, the conditions of, 487-494 ; 
attention, 487, 8 ; familiarity, 488 ; constructive 
imagination, 489 ; wise judgment, 491 ; reference 
to Divine mind, 492 ; ready deduction, 493 ; ex- 
periment, 493 ; Lord Bacon's services in respect 
to, 493. 

Diversity or otherness, relation of, 539 ; proposition 
expressing it, do. ; relation to negation, do. 

Division of the concept, 397. 

Dreams, and dreaming, 299-333; dreams, the soul ac- 
tive constantly, 333, '4 ; opinions of Descartes, eta, 
334 ; the soul acts with feeble energy, do. ; with 
varying energy, do.; representative power ac- 
tive, do. ; irregular, 335 ; the judgment feeble, 
do. ; the reasoning power, 336 ; consciousness 
feeble, 337 ; estimates of time in, do.; moral re- 
sponsibility in, 338 ; the emotions in, do. ; the 
activity of the will in, do.; Dugald Stewart 
on, 339. 

Dugald Stewart. (See Stewart.) 

Duns Scotus, on universals, 406. 

Duration, how related to the soul's acts, 539 ; ap- 
plied to two objects, 540; relations of, do.; void, 
541 ; relations to extension, 541 ; transferred 
to material acts, 542 ; measures of, whence de- 
rived, do. ; language of, 543; how related to 
time, 562 ; affirmed of events, but not of time, 
564. 

Ego, the, known in consciousness, 93-96 ; denied by 
many, 94, 5 ; not psychical substance, 96 ; distin 
guished from the self, 101 ; 110, 111- 

Elaborative faculty, 81. 

Empedocles, theory of sense-perception, 222. 

Enthymeme, the, 443. 



666 



INDEX. 



Eric of Auxcrre, doctrine of concept, 405. 

Error, possible of relations only, 64, 5 ; of the senses 
belong to the acquired sense-perceptions, 171 ; 
two classes of, 171, 2. 

Essence, real, and nominal, 434. 

Essence, the real, misconceived ; explained, 632. 

Ethics, its relation to psychology, 13 ; assumes final 
cause, 615. 

Event, defined, 570 ; different classes of, 570, 1. 

Excluded middle, law of, 546. 

Extended objects limited, 561. 

Extension known in perception, 132 ; by touch in the 
concrete, 147 ; in vision superficial only, 155 ; ex- 
tra organic, how acquired, 1S2 ; known in sense- 
perception, 537 ; blended with matter, do. ; the 
several relations of, 538 ; relations to duration, 
541 ; related to space, 562 ; limits objects, 563 ; 
affirmed of objects not of space, 564. 

Extent, of notion denned, 296 ; of mathematical con- 
cepts, 458. 

Externality, known in perception, 131 ; in touch, 
149 ; two meanings of, 150 ; of the body to the 
soul, 150; of one body to another, 151; extra 
organic, how acquired, 182, 3. 

Eye, the structure of, 152, 3 ; single objects seen 
with two eyes, 166 ; dignity of, 157, 8. 

Faculties of the intellect, how conceived, 75, 6; 
leading faculties named, 77 ; severally defined, 
77-80. 

Faculties of the soul, 40-51 ; the soul, not parts or 
organs, 41 ; often so misconceived, do. ; do not 
act apart, do. ; grounds of belief in, 42-44 ; states 
like and unlike ; 42 ; one dependent on another, 
do. ; distinguishable by a prominent element, 
do. ; differently related to the ego, act, and ob- 
ject, 44 ; more obvious than powers of matter, 
44, 5 ; why called human, 45 ; not independent, 
46 ; relations of, important in education, 46 ; 
history of doctrine of, 49 ; synonyms for, 50. 

Fainting. Sec Phantasy. 

Fichte, J. G., on the nature of the concept, 411 ; on 
the categories, 525-657. 

Final cause, chapter on, 592-019; terms explained, 
division of causes, 592, 3 ; the relation discerned 
d priori, 504 ; compared with efficient causation, 
do. ; reasons for the position, 594-599 ; the mind 
seeks this relation, 595 ; acknowledges it to be 
higher, do. ; explains organic phenomena, 597 ; 
conspicuous in the highest order of beings, 599 ; 
does not displace efficient causes, do. ; objections 
to the position, 599-607 ; men mistake, 599 ; they 
cannot test their inductions, 600 ; the relation 
subjective only, 601 ; involves two principles, 
602 ; hinders discovery, 603 ; Bacon and Des- 
cartes on, do. ; adaptations are necessary con- 
ditions only, do. ; limited, 605, 6 ; cannot be as- 
cribed to an unlimited Being, 606 ; application 
of the principle, 607-619 ; in metaphysics, 607 ; 
in induction, do. ; in the formation of concepts, 
do. ; in classification, 608 ; in the notion of an 
individual, do. ; as a rule of truth, 609 ; in 
mathematics, do. / in geology and paleontology, 
610; inphil. geography, 611 ; in comp. anatomy, 



do. ; in physiology, 612 ; in anthropology, 634 J 
in psychology, 614; in ethics, 615 ; in theology, 
616 ; two classes of theories of God, do; reasons 
for accepting a personal God, 617-619. 

Finite and the Infinite, (see Infinite) ; and condition* 
ed, the, chapter on, 645-662 ; result of processes 
of knowledge, 645 ; the finite universe how con- 
ceived, 646 ; is limited and conditioned, 647. 

First principles. (See Intuition.) 

First truths. (See Intuition.) 

Forgetfulness. (See Memory.) 

Forgotten knowledge restored. (See Memory.) 

Formal cause, 592, 3. 

Formal categories, 514; chapter ou, 526-536. 

Formal relations or categories, chapter on, 526-533. 

Forms, of thought and being, 383 ; of knowledge, 
Kant and Hamilton error, concerning, 629. 

Franklin's discovery of electricity, 474, 5. 

Functions of the soul defined, 51. 

Galileo, discovery by, 477. 

Gassendi, theory of sense-perception, 226 ; illustra- 
tion of memory, 310. 

Generalization, 389. 

Geography, Phil., assumes final cause, 601. 

Geology, assumes final cause, 610. 

Geometrical reasoning, (see Mathematical quanti- 
ties) ; constructions of, 359 ; figures, construction 
of, 460 ; quantities measurable, 461 ; reasoning, 
example of, 462 , concepts, how formed, 551 ; rests 
on what assumptions, 552 ; postulates of, 552. 

George, L., resolves sensations into nerve vibrations, 
126. 

Geulincx, theory of sense-perception, 228. 

God, man the image of, 99 ; belief in, assumed in all 
scientific knowledge, 662. 

Goodyear, discovery, 490. 

Habit, relation to association, 293 ; theory of, 294; 
often supposes a difficulty, do. ; bodily, do. ; 
mental, 394, 5 ; emotional, 295. 

Hallucinations, 260; case of Nicolai, 349; net 
purely physical, 350 ; how explained, do. 

Hamilton, Sir AYm., division of faculties, 49 ; doc- 
trine of knowledge, 65 ; consciousness of Ego, 
94; consciousness of objects of knowledge, 97; 
theory of extra-organic perception, 184; theory 
of sense-perception. 236 ; doctrine of latent modi- 
fications, 289 ; on the imagination, 357 ; on the 
nature of the concept, 410 ; Hamilton's dictum 
of the syllogism, 446 ; appellations for intuitions, 
509 ; on origin of knowledge, 504 ; on intuitions 
and categories, 523 ; positive and negative ne- 
cessity, 523 ; table of theories of causation, 579 ; 
theory of causation by law of the conditioned, 
589, sqq. ; relation to Kant. 590 ; objections to, 
591 ; follows Kant in respect to forms of knowl- 
edge, 629 ; of primary, secondary, and secundo- 
primary qualities, 638, 9 ; on the real and 
phenomenal, 642 ; negative thinking, 652 ; oa 
the Infinite, 654, 5 ; antinomies, 657, 8. 

Hartley, theory of vibrations, 272. 

Harvey's discovery prompted by final cause, 596. 

Hauscr, Casper, how the world looked to, 190. 



INDEX. 



66' 



Hearing, sense-perceptions of, 140-143 ; organ, 140 ; 
varieties, how far distinguishable, 141 ; condi- 
tion of language, 142 ; expresses feeling, do. ; 
dignity, 143 ; acquired perceptions of, 160. 

Hegel, method of psychology, 59, 60 ; on the nature 
of the concept, 412 ; on the categories, 525 ; be- 
ing equals nothing, 529; error, 532; misuse 
of law of identity, 536 ; on causation, 589 ; on 
the absolute, 650. 

Heraclitus, theory of sense-perception, 222. 

Herbart, doctrine of faculties, 49, 50 ; relation to 
associational psychology, 53 ; doctrine of con- 
sciousness, 92, 3 ; consciousness of ego, 94, 5 ; 
views of repetition in perception, 202 ; theory of 
sense-perception, 245 ; doctrine of association, 
276 ; on the nature of the concept, 412; on the 
categories, 526. 

Herbert Spencer, (see Spencer,) doctrine of neces- 
sary truths, 57. 

Hilaire, St. &., on final cause, 604. 

Hobbes, crude views of association, 275 ; often-quot- 
ed illustration, 288 ; doctrine of the infinite, 653. 

Hume denies consciousness of ego, 94 ; theory of 
sense-perception, 232 ; passage on association, 
276 ; enumeration of laws of, do. ; doctrine of 
the concept, 408 ; on intuitions, 520 ; theory of 
causation, 571 ; definition of substance, 622. 

Ideals, nature of, 361 ; varieties of, 362, 3 ; related to 
individual experience, 363, 4; ethical, 372. 

Ideation, of sense-objects, 199. 

Identity, law of, etc., do not explain deduction, 451 ; 
category of, 533 ; affirmable of spirit and mat- 
ter, 534 ; logical law of, do. ; concerns concepts, 
535 ; guards against what, do. ; founded on real 
identity, misapplication of by Hegel and others, 
536 ; of material substance, 631 ; several kinds 
of, do. 

Image, technical name for objects of representation, 
253 ; relation to concept, 418, 9 ; of space and 
time objects, 54-3 ; of causal relation, 585. 

Imagination, a modification of representation, 256 ; 
poetic, 256 ; philosophical, 257 ; the, chapter on, 
351-376 ; appellations for, 351 ; materials and 
conditions for, do. ; space and time, 352 ; thought- 
relations, do. ; material qualities, do. ; spiritual. 
do., 353 ; how far can it modify these materials ? 
353-356 ; by what process ? 356 ; three particulars, 
357 ; its combining office, 357, 8 ; idealization of 
space and time objects, the mathematical imag- 
ination, 358; psychical idealization, 360-364; 
capable of growth and culture, 364 ; constantly 
exercised, 364-366; special application of, 
366-376 ; the poetic, 366-368 ; the philosophic, 
368-371 ; relation to invention, 369 ; nearly al- 
lied to the poetic, 370 ; the ethical, 371-373 ; the 
religious, 373-376 ; of the Infinite, 375. 

Imaging of concepts, 418 ; of space and time objects, 

545 ; of the infinite, etc., 656. 
Individual notion of, rests on final cause, 608. 
Individuation, the principle of, 631. 
Induction, includes psychology, 52 ; psychology its 

foundation, do. ; how related to deduction, 441 ; 



the so-called purely logical, 47 1 ; examples o$ 
2 ; chapter on, 469^94 ; loosely defined, 4S9 
proper induction, 471 ; very frequent, 472 ; ho\» 
differs from simple judgment, 472 ; importanca 
of a correct theory of, 473 ; in common life, 474, 
in science, do.; in physics most striking, 478; 
why in science more difficult, do. ; requires at- 
tention, 479 ; discrimination, do. ; more general 
definition, do. ; involves mathematics, 480 ; de- 
pends on other, do. ; the problem of, difficulty 
4S1 ; involves certain assumptions, 482 ; 6ub- 
tance and attribute, do. ; causation, 483 ; time 
and space relations, do. ; indicia, 484 ; adapta- 
tion, 485 ; common standard of reason, 486 ; 
three rules of induction, do. ; real character of, 
do. ; conditions of successful hypothesis, 487 J 
assumes final cause, 607. 

Inductive science. (See Induction.) 

Infants capable of induction, 176; condition of the 
fouI in, 177-1S0 ; learns to touch, 186. 

Infinite, unconditioned and absolute, chapter on, 
645-662 ; relations to the finite, 647 ; literal im- 
port of infinite, 648 ; transferred from quantity to 
quality, do. ; variety of senses of, do. ; the terms 
used in the concrete and abstract, 650, 1 ; not 
negative conceptions, 651 ; not produced by neg- 
ative thinking, 652 ; Hamilton and Mansel, do. ; 
not unrelated, 653 ; Spinoza, do. ; Hobbes' doc- 
trine of, do. : not the sum total of being, do. ; 
totality not infinite, 654; not a matter of quan« 
tity, do. ; not one and simple, 655 ; is knowable. 
that and what it is, 655 ; Herbert Spencer's doc- 
trine of, 656; cannot be imagined, do.; Kant's 
antinomies explained, 657, 8 ; not known by 
reasoning or induction, 658 ; not defined for 
classification, do.; holds relations to the finite, 
659 ; known by knowledge, and not by faith or 
feeling, 660; not known exhaustively, do.; self- 
existence common to the finite and infinite, 661 ; 
is a thinking person, 661 ; relations to space 
and time, 662. 

Innate Ideas, doctrine of, 519. 

Inner sense. (See Consciousness.) 

Insanity, 350, 1. 

Intellect, growth and development of, 73, 4 ; rules 
for culture of, 74, 5 ; faculties of, how conceived, 
75 ; learns to control the body, 163-70 ; its state 
before sense-perception, ISO. 

Intuitions, 82. 

Intuition and Intuitive knowledge, Part TV., 497- 
662 ; defined and enumerated, chapter on, 497- 
517 ; involved in induction and other knowl- 
edge, 497 ; three characteristics, 498 ; not gained 
by ordinary processes, 499 ; referred by some to 
a special faculty, do. ; various appellations for, 
500; difference of opinion in respect to, do. ; 
figuratively described, do. ; not first in time, 5C1 j 
Locke's polemic against, do. ; first in logical im- 
portance, 502 ; in what sense principles, do. ] 
different senses of the word, 502-504 ; how re- 
lated to origin of knowledge, 504 ; ways in 
. which they are apprehended, 505, 6 ; concrete, 
by a proposition, singular propositions, occasion 
concepts, 505 ; generalized by reflection, 508 ; re« 



668 



INDEX. 



< 



Jation to other generals, do. ; stages of the mind's 
progress in, 508-510 ; observation of objects, 
506 ; as related, 507 ; abstraction of relation, do. ; 
discernment of relations as fundamental, 507, 8 ; 
of correlates, 508 ; explanation of the limited 
assent to them, do. ; tested by the language and 
actions of men, 509, 10 ; three criteria, 510, 11 ; 
not first premises, 512 ; logically independent, 
513 ; divided into three classes, 514 ; theories of, 
chapter on, 517-526 ; of direct mental vision, 
518 ; light of nature, do. ; innate ideas, 519 ; 
school of Locke, do. ; Condillac, 520 ; Hume, do. ; 
of the associational school, 520 ; Dr. Reid and 
the Scottish school, do. ; the Trench school, 521 ; 
Kant and his school, do.; criticism of, 522; 
Hamilton, 523 ; of faith, do. ; practical reason, 
524; Schleiermacher, do.; ethical school, do. ; 
3. G. Fichte, 525 ; Schelling and Hegel, do. ; 
Herbart, 526 ; Trendelenburg, 80. 
Intuitive knowledge, relation to symbolic, 428-430. 

Jessen, theory of the brain in memory, 272. 

Jouffroy, doctrine of intuitions, 521. 

Judgment, chapter on, 430-439 ; forms the concept, 
430 ; misconceived, do. ; proof, 431 ; how related to 
the concept, 432 ; psychological and logical, 432 ; 
how the two are expressed in language, do. ; the 
logical judgment, 433 ; force of the copula, 433, 
5 ; judgment of content, 434 ; natural and scien- 
tific, do. ; real and nominal essence, do. ; judg- 
ment of extent, 436 ; importance in science, do. ; 
propositions of extent and content how related, 
437 ; relation to reasoning, 439 ; immediate and 
mediate, 440. 

Kant, method in Psychology, 59 ; on consciousness 
of ego, 94 ; theory of sense-perception, 245 ; on 
the nature of the concept, 411 ; on immediate 
syllogisms, 463 ; on origin of knowledge, 504 ; 
views of categories and intuitions, 521 ; criticism 
of, 522; of practical reason, 524; doctrine of 
space and time, 568 ; on causation, 589 ; on sub- 
stance and attribute, 622; error concerning forms 
of knowledge, 629 ; the thing in itself, 632 ; on 
the real and phenomenal, 642 ; antinomies, 657. 

Kepler, discovery by, 477. . 

Knowledge defined and discussed, 51-80; denned, 61 ; 
how far definable, do.; is action, do.; exercised 
under conditions, 62 ; these various, 62 ; two 
classes of objects, 62 ; preparation of objects, 63; 
various in kind, do. ; involves certainty, 64 ; 
being its correlate, do. ; involves apprehension 
of relations, 65 ; objection, do. ; admitted by 
Hamilton and others, do. ; involves analysis 
and synthesis, 67 ; objects and relations vari- 
ous, 67 ; when the process is complete, 68 ; these 
products objects of subsequent knowledge, do. ; 
representative and represented knowledge, do. ; 
acts of kn. diverse in energy, 69 ; attention, 
do. ; some objects known more easily than others, 
do. ; this explains intellectual growth, 70; em- 
pirical and philosophical kn., 71 ; critical stage 
of kn., 72 ; direct and reflex, of matter and 
spirit, 635 ; direct involves apprehension of being j 



as well as relations, do. ; reflex, difficult to an- 
alyze, do. 

Language, relation to psychological truth, 112 ; of 
common, life, a test of truth, 113, 4 ; influenced 
by association, 299 ; relation to thought, 387, 8 4 
the study of, 388. 

Laromiguiere, theory of sense-perception, 241. 

Law, its relations to psychology, 13. 

Law and power, 570. 

Leibnitz, doctrine of latent consciousness, 103 ; 
theory of sense-perception, 243 ; latent modifi- 
cations in association, 289 ; opinion of the 
' mind's constant activity, 334 ; on symbolic 
knowledge, 427 ; on the sufficient reason, 451 : 
criticism on Locke's doctrine of origin of know- 
ledge, 504 ; on intuitions, 519 ; definition of 
space and time, 567 ; sufficient reason as applied 
by Wolf, 588. 

Life, how explained by the atomists, 29 ; by Aris- 
totle, do. ; by Plato, do. ; in the New Testament, 
30 ; by the Greek Fathers, 30 ; by Descartes, 30 ; 
and the moderns generally, 30 ; by later Scien- 
tists, 30; the principle of, named by Blumenbach 
and others, 30 ; that there is a principle of, ar- 
guments in favor, 30-33 ; springs from life, 30, 
31; is sustained by growth, 31 ; after a plan, 32 ; 
preserves its form, 32 ; admits repair, 32 ; 
counter-arguments, 33-36; variously defined by 
Carpenter and others, 33. 

Light of nature, 518. 

Limit and limitation of objects and events, 563. 

Limited, the distinguished from the conditioned, 
647. 

Locke, doctrine of reflection, 86, 7 ; of conscious- 
ness, 94; theory of sense-perception, 230; doc- 
trine of knowledge, 262 ; of association, 276 ; of 
the mind's constant activity, 334 ; on axioms, 
460 ; on innate ideas, 501 ; on intuitions, etc., 
519 ; theory of causation, 581 ; relation to Mill 
and Hume, 582 ; to de Biran, do. ; to his own 
doctrine of knowledge, do. ; on substance, 621, 2 ; 
on real essence, 632 ; on primary and secondary 
qualities, 637. 

Logic, its relation to Psychology, 14, 15 ; to meta- 
physics, 14. 

Logical relation of processes and products, 70, 1 ; 
contrasted with psychological, do. ; do not al- 
ways coincide, 72 ; reasoning technical, 465. 

Lotze, H., doctrine of local signs, 148. 

Maas, theory of association, 280. 

Malebranche, theory of sense-perception, 228 ; of 
causation, 582-8. 

Mansel, H. L., consciousness of ego, 94 ; theory of 
causation, 490 ; on negative thinking, 652 ; on 
the Infinite, etc., 654, 5. 

Materialism accounted for, 18 ; arguments in favor 
of, 19-22 ; counter-arguments, 22-26. 

Materialists, their views of psychology, 53. 

Mathematical affections of matter, Stewart's doctrino 
of, 638. 

Mathematical reasoning, 45G-463 ; its entities or con- 
cepts, 456 ; resolved into induction, 461 ; into 



INDEX. 



669 



hypothetical, do. ; into constructive, do. ; cate- 
gories, 514, 5. 

Mathematical relations, chapter on, 537-569 ; quan- 
tity, 551 ; concepts, two classes of, 551 ; applica- 
tion to matter, 554 ; to mechanics and chemistry, 
555 ; to light, sound, and heat, 556 ; to psychi- 
cal phenomena, arguments for and against, 557 ; 
suggested and defined by motion, 559. 

Mathematics, rests on final cause, 609 ; recognize 
limited quantity, 561. 

Matter, relations of the soul to, 16-40 ; phenom- 
ena first attended to, 17 ; prepossessions which it 
engenders, 18 ; furnishes language for psychical 
phenomena, 27-29. 

Matter and form, in sense-perception, 225. 

Matter and spirit, united by thought relations, 636 ; 
especially by those of design, 637. 

Matter, its capacity to be perceived not an attribute, 
629. 

Matter, known as being, 635 ; its most important re- 
lations to the soul as sentient, 636. 

Measurement involves number, 544 ; involves both 
number and magnitude, 548. 

Memory a modification of representation, 254, 5; 
imperfect, 255 ; chapter on, 300-325 ; essential ele- 
ments in an act of, 300 ; object must be recalled, 
301 ; the mind perceiving it, do. ; relations of 
time, do. ; the place where, 302 ; act of recogni- 
tion, do. ; disinterested, 303 ; admits reasons, 
do. ; memory technically defined, 303 ; represen- 
tation and recognition, 304 ; spontaneous and 
intentional, 304 ; spontaneous defined, 305 ; orig- 
inal differences in, do. ; relations peculiar to it, 
306 ; its value, do. ; requires the rational also, 
do. ; the intentional memory defined, 307 ; rela- 
tions to the knowing mind, 307 ; recovery of for- 
gotten objects, 308 ; active element prominent, 
do. ; the passive must be used, do. ; memory as 
the power to retain, 309 ; how accounted for, 309 ; 
figurative explanations, Gassendi's, 310 ; ready 
and tenacious, do. ; forgetfulness, do. ; degrees 
of, 311 ; is entire forgetfulness possible ? do. ; for- 
gotten knowledge recovered, 311, 2 ; dependence 
on the bodily condition, 312, 3 ; influenced by 
the season or the time of the day, do. ; sudden 
loss of memory, 313 ; how explained, do. ; vari- 
eties of, 314 ; development of, 315 ; in infancy, 
childhood, and youth, 315, 6 ; culture of, 316 ; 
manhood and old age, do. ; special individual 
varieties, 317 ; of the undisciplined, 318 ; of 
youth and age, do. ; man of universal memory, 
319 ; memory of the ancients, do. ; cultivation 
of the memory, 320 ; fundamental principles, 
321; Buxton's advice, do.; artificial memory, 
322; value, objections, do.; when useful, 323; 
Bern's system, do. ; Coleridge's arts of memory, 
do. ; moral conditions of, 324. 
Metaphysics, its relations to psych., 14-15 ; to logic, 
15 ; relation to psychology, 499 ; assumes final 
cause, 607. 
Microcosm, the soul a, 99. 
Middle terms, 446 ; invention of, 446. 
Mill, James, an associationalist, 56 ; denies con- 
sciousness of ego, 94 ; admits it, 96 ; doctrine of 



association, 276 ; on intuition, 520. 

Mill, John Stuart, an associationalist,- 56; doctrine 
of necessary truths, 57 ; consciousness of ego, 
94 ; doctrine of association, 276 ; on the nature 
of the concept, 410 ; concessions to realism, 425 ; 
doctrine of the syllogism, 444-7 ; of mathe- 
matical reasoning, 461 ; on intuitions and first 
truths, 520 ; theory of causation, 576 ; relation 
to those of Hume and Brown, 577 ; definition 
of the soul, 627 ; definition of body, error in, 
628. 

Mind and matter, chapter on, 619-645. 

Mnemonics. (See Memory.) 

Morell, J. D., resolves sensations into nerve-vibra- 
tions, 126 ; perception into classification, 206. 

Motion bodily, provision for, by nature, 167, 8 ; for 
combined activity, 168; how controlled by the 
intellect, 168-70; aids sense-perception, 201. 

Motion, relation of space and time concepts to, 558 ; 
universality of, do. ; indicates position and rest, 
559 ; suggests time relations, 559 ; mathemat- 
ical quantities, 559; the condition of generaliza- 
tion, do. ; objections, 560 ; Trendelenburg on, 52( 

Muller, J., theory of nerve endings in touch, 148 
theory of extra organic perception, 184 ; theor - 
of sense perception, 184 ; 248. 

Muscular sense perceptions defined and divided, 136 * 
lowest in rank, do. ; in touch, 146 ; first devel - 
oped, 181. 

Names, significance of, 401. (See "Words.) 
Naming and names of concepts, advantages of, aw 

sensuous, 420 ; sign of a single element, do. ; 

allow addition, 421 ; aid rapid thinking, do.; 

value tested by experience, do. 
Negative notions, 531. 
Nerves, reflex action of, 124 ; afferent and efferent, 

125; subject to various affections, 125; special 

function in sensation, do. 
Nervous system described, 124. 
Newton, discovery by, 477. 
Noetic faculty, 81. 

Nominalists, the, 405 ; strife adjusted, 417. 
Nothing, Hegel's use of, 529 ; 532. 
Notion. (See Concept.) 
Number, how developed, 544 ; defined, 545 ; relations, 

how symbolized, 553 ; concepts of, do. ; applica- 
tion to magnitude, 554. 
Numerical quantities constructed, 359. 

Objects— object- and subject-, 52 ; material distin- 
guished from percepts, 192 ; involve two rela- 
tions, 193 ; percepts united in 6pace and time, 
194 ; involve substance and attribute, 195. 

Occam, "William of, on universals, 406. 

Organic sense-perceptions, 137. 

Organized beings defined, 29. 

Original sense-perceptions defined, 159. 

Owen, on species, 426. 

Perception. (See Sense-perception.) 
Perception, acquired, 122. 

Perception, proper, Hamilton's doctrine of, 129 ; an 
act of knowledge, 131 ; involves being, 131 ; a 



670 



INDEX. 



non-ego, 131, 2 ; an extended non-ego, 132; ac- 
companies every sense, 1 33 ; with, varying clear- 
ness, 134 ; in inverse ratio to sensation-proper, 
134 ; in different sensations and senses, 134, 5 ; 
of touch, 147-152 ; defined, 147 ; of extension 
in the concrete, do. ; of externality in two senses, 
150, 1 ; in vision, 154 ; extended in two dimen- 
sions, 155. 
Parcepts, how gained, 122; how combined, do.; in 
vision, 154; distinguished from things, 192 ; com- 
bined into things by two stages, 193. 

Phantasy, a modification of representation, 255; chap- 
ter on, 325-35 ; defined, 325 ; examples of, do. ; 
why infrequent, 326 ; fainting, sleep, etc., do. ; 
several suppositions possible, 327 ; why probably 
explicable by laws, 327, 8 ; depend on laws of 
representation, 328 ; unnoticed states, 329 ; bod- 
ily condition influential, do. ; creative power pos- 
sible in, do. ; sleep considered physiologically, 
331 ; prominent phenomena, 331-333 ; considered 
psychologically, 333-348 ; somnambulism, 339- 
348 ; insanity, 350. 

Phenomenal and real, 640. (See Real.) 

Phenomenon defined, 51 ; contrasted with being, 64. 

Philosophical consciousness. (See Consciousness.) 

Physiology defined, 6, 7 ; assumes final cause, 612. 

Plato and the Platonists' view of life, 29-30. 

Plato, theory of sense-perception, 223 ; on univer- 
sals, 403 ; on intuitions, 518. 

Political Science, its relation to psychology, 13. 

Porphyry's Questions on universals, 405. 

Postulates, 457. 

Postulates, nature of, 552. 

Power and law distinguished. 570. 

Powers of the soul. (See Faculties.) 

Predicable, 392. 

Prescind, to, 389. 

Presentation. (See Presentative Knowledge.) 

Presentative Faculty defined and divided, 77 ; exer- 
cised earliest, do. ; its objects do. ; conditions to 
its exercise, 77, 8. 

Presentative Knowledge, Part I., 83-247. 

Primary laws of association, 272-286. 

Primary Qualities, 637, 8. 

Principle, various senses of the term, 502-501. 

Probable or problematical reasoning, 454, 5 ; found- 
ed on causes and laws, 455 ; various spheres of, 
455. 

Proposition. (See Judgment.) 

Psychological contrasted with logical relations, 70. 

Psychology defined and vindicated, 5-16; history 
of the term, do.; improperly named, do.; prop- 
erly a science, do. ; limited to the human soul, 
6 ; and to a class of inquiries, do. ; relations to 
physiology and anthropology 6, 7 ; its phenom- 
ena peculiar, 7 ; known by consciousness, 7, 8 ; 
interest of, 8 ; proper objects of science, 8 ; preju- 
dices against psychology, 9 ; value of, promotes 
self-knowledge, 9 ; teaches self-control, 10 ; pro- 
motes moral culture, do. , aids in understanding 
others, do.; indispensable to educators, 10, 11; 
especially to moral teachers, 11 ; aids in the 
study and enjoyment of literature, 12 ; in orig- 
inal composition, 12 ; promotes moral sym- 



pathy with others, 12 ; and moral thoughtful* 
ness, 13 ; the mother of all the human sciences, 

13 ; relation to ethics, 13 ; to political and social 
science, 13 ; to law, 13 ; to aesthetics, 14 ; to theol- 
ogy, 14 ; special relation to logic and metaphysics, 

14 ; why called phil. and met., 15 ; disciplines to 
method, 15, 16 ; a branch of physics, 16 ; why dis- 
trusted, 16 ; distrust of, accounted for, 17 ; its 
phenomena overlooked, 18; resolved into material 
agencies, do. ; is it a science 1 51 -60 ; the materi- 
als, whence derived, 51, 2 ; an inductive science, 
52 ; also the science of induction, 52 ; objections 
against psychology as a science, 53 ; answers, do. ; 
views of materialists, do. ; of cerebralists, 54 ; 
views refuted, 55 ; phrenologists, 55, 6 ; Associ- 
ationalists, 56-59 ; d priori theory, 59; Kant and 
Hegel, 59-60 ; wherein defective, 60 ; method of 
observing and interpreting its phenomena, 106- 
109 ; in what sense imparts new knowledge, 110 ; 
aided by language, 112 ; misled by exact termi- 
nology, 112 ; tried by the language of common 
life, 11, 3, 4 ; by the actions, how it can interpret 
both, 114, 5 ; why men are so positive in their 
theories of, 115 ; slow progress and divisions ex- 
plained, 115, 6 ; special difficulties of studying, 
117, 8 ; transition to metaphysics, 499 ; assumes 
final cause, 014. 

Qualities of matter, primary and secondary, 637-640 ; 
two and threefold classification, 637 ; Aristotle's, 
Descartes', and Locke's, 637 ; Reid's, Stewart's, 
and Hamilton's, 638 ; the secundo-primary not 
established, 639 ; Hamilton's locomotive energy, 
do. ; are the primary qualities essential to the 
notion of matter ? 640 ; do they give real knowl- 
edge ? do. 

Quantity, relations of, 543 ; mathematical, 551. 

Real and phenomenal, 640 ; contrasted in two senses, 
641 ; Kant's doctrine of, 642 ; Hamilton's, do. ; 
their views criticised, 643 ; question not peculiar 
to philosophers, do. ; special sense of real, 644 ; 
relations of the intellect trustworthy, do. 

Real categories, 514-516. 

Realism, truth, and significance of, 422-426 ; assert 
permanent relations, 324 ; mistakes, 424, 5. 

Realists, the, 405. 

Reason and consequent, relation of, 449. 

Reason to, see Reasoning. 

Reasoning, deductive, chapter on, 439-453 ; reason- 
ing implies judgment, 439 ; inductive and de- 
ductive, 441 ; often conjoined, do. ; an act of 
thought-knowledge, 442 ; deductive, (see Deduc- 
tion ;) probable, 454, 5 ; mathematical, 454-6 ; 
formal, 454. 

Redintegration, law of, 277-9 ; how far it accounts 
for the laws of association, 279, 80. 

Reflection, as used by Locke, 86, 7 ; term explained, 
107. 

Reflective consciousness. (See Consciousness.) 

Regulative faculty, 81. 

Reid, consciousness of ego, 94 ; defective view of sen- 
sation, 129 ; theory of perceiving externality 
by touch, 150 ; theory of sense-perception, 233 



INDEX. 



67i 



on the nature of the concept, 409 ; on axioms, 
460 ; criticism on Locke ; doctrine of origin of 
knowledge, 504 ; on intuition and first truths, 
620 ; of primary and secondary qualities, 638. 

Relations involved in knowledge, 65 ; no objects 
unrelated, 66 ; how far definable, 66, 7 ; rela- 
tions do not attract ideas, 276 ; of place in 
assoc, 277 ; of time and of both, do.; of simi- 
larity and contrast, 278 ; of cause and effect, 
do. ; of means and end, do. ; of association and 
acquisition the same, 285 ; general relations or 
principles, (see P. ;) formal relations, chapter 
on, 527-537 ; mathematical, chapter on, 537-559. 

Relative notions, 531. 

Repetition, in sense-perception, excites interest, 
202 ; aids to unite parts into wholes, 203 ; to di- 
rect the attention, 204 ; to master very complex 
objects, 204. 

Representation, denned, 78 ; its objects, do. ; condi- 
tions, 79. 

Representation and R. En., Part II., 248-376 ; de- 
fined, 243 ; not limited to sensible objects, 249 ; 
a creative power, do. ; appellations for, 250, 1 ; 
objects of, 251 ; individual, do. ; in what sense 
the same, 252 ; involve relations, do. ; these re- 
lations peculiar, 252 ; no technical names for 
objects of, 253 ; conditions and laws of, do. ; di- 
visions of, 254 ; interest and importance of, 257, 
8 ; object of, chapter on, 258-269 ; why needs dis- 
cussion, do. ; three heads of inquiry, 259 ; psy- 
chical, do. ; transient, 260 ; not spectrum or hal- 
lucination, 260 ; intellectual, do. ; relation of 
object to its original, 261 ; comparable to no 
other, do. ; does not resemble its objects, 261 ; 
contradictions involved, 262 ; no resemblance in 
memory or recognition, 262 ; mental pictures 
less exciting, 264; consist of fewer elements, 
265 ; recalled slowly in parts, do. ; objects of 
imagination, 266 ; usefulness of representative 
objects to thought, 266 ; less distracting than 
realities, do. ; more easily compared, 267 ; and 
generalized, do. ; serviceable in action, 268 ; con- 
ditions and laws of Rep., chapter on, 269-300 ; 
association of ideas, 270 ; representative power 
unceasingly active, 290 ; interrupted by sense- 
objects, 290 ; also subjectively, 291. 

Representative faculty. (See Representation.) 

Representative knowledge, 69. 

Retention, 106. 

Retina, image on, 153 ; when discovered, 227. 

Richter, J. Paul, on self-consciousness, 101. 

Roscellinus, doctrine of the concept, 405. 

Royer-Collard, theory of sense-perception, 241 ; of 
intuition, 521. 

Schelling on intuition, 518 ; misuse of law of iden- 
tity, 536. 

Schema, nature and service of, 268. 

Schleiermacher, theory of sense-perception, 246 ; on 
the Schema, 268 ; theory of math, reasoning, 461 ; 
on intuitions and the categories, 524. 

Science, limited views of, 9 ; all science rests on 
metaphysics, 9. 

Science, classifications of, 398, 9 ; nomenclature of, 



399 ; related to common knowledge 437. 8 ; de- 
fined, 438 ; when complete, 439. 

Scientific knowledge. (See Science.) 

Secondary laws of association, 286-288. 

Secondary Qualities, 637, 8. 

Secundo-primary qualities, 638, 9. 

Self, the, distinguished from the ego, 101, 110, 111. 

Sensation proper, defined, 128 ; experienced in th* 1 
soul, do.; connected with an organism, do. ; 
Reid's view of, 129; Berkeley's, cfo. ; Hamilton's, 
do. ; involve relations of place, 130 ; differ in 
kind and degree, 131 ; definiteness of place, do. ; 
inversely to perception proper, 134 ; in different 
sensations and different senses, 134, 5 ; of gentle 
touch, 145 ; acute and painful of, 145 ; of tem- 
perature, 146 ; of weight, do. ; muscular in 
touch, do. ; of touch localized, 147 ; of vision, 
154. 

Sensations, subjective, described, 125, 6. 

Sense-perception, 119-247; conditions and process, 
defined, 119 ; chapter on, 119-135 ; applied to 
the power, act, and object, do. ; called earliest 
into action, do. ; seems easy to understand, 120 ; 
why difficult, 120 ; what it is not, do. ; example 
of, in an orange, 120, 21 ; what it is, 121 ; sepa- 
rate percepts, 122 ; some indirectly acquired, 
do. ; eight topics of inquiry, 123 ; conditions of 
sense-perception, 123-126 ; objects or stimuli, 123 ; 
bodily organism, 1 23, 4 ; nervous system, 124; 
sensorium, do. ; appropriate objects a condition, 
125 ; action of object on sensorium, 126 ; pro- 
cess of sense-perception, 126-135 ; simplest form 
of, 126 ; psychical, not physiological, 127 ; com- 
plex, 127 ; names of elements, 127 ; classes of 
sense-perceptions, chapter on, 135-158; three 
named, 135 ; muscular, 136 ; organic, 137 ; spe- 
cial, 137 ; smell, 138 ; taste, 139, 140 ; hearing, 
140-143, q. v.; touch, 143-152, q. v.; sight, 137- 
151, q. v.; acquired sense-perceptions, chapter 
on, 158-177 ; development and growth of, chap- 
ter on, 178-192; interest of the problem, 178; 
perplexing to the imagination, 179; data for 
solving it, 179, 80 ; products of, chapter on, 192- 
209 ; conditions of perception of things, 199 ; 
energy by contrast, etc., 200 ; motion, 201 ; re- 
petition, 201 ; need of, explained, 202-205 ; fa- 
miliarity, 205 ; repetition not recognition, 206 ; 
continuance of time, do. ; activity of the soul 
in, chapter on, 210-220 ; why held to be passive, 
210 ; summary and review of theory of, 219, 20 ; 
theories of, chapter on, 221-247. 

Sensorium described, 124, 5; known as extended, 
149. 

Sensory. (See Sensorium.) 

Sight, sense of, 152-158 ; organ of, 152, 3 ; conditions 
of, 153 ; image on the retina, function of, do. ; 
single vision with two eyes, 156; double vision, 
do. ; place of the object as originally seen, 157 ; 
dignity of vision, 157, 8 ; acquired perceptions 
of, 161, sqq. ; why and how its percepts are pro- 
jected in 6pace, 186-188 ; percepts of, combined 
with those of touch, 188, 9. 

Simple notions, 395. 

Sleep. (See Phantasy.) 



672 



INDEX. 



Smell, sense-perceptions of, do. ; organs, 138 ; ac- 
quired perceptions of, 160. 

Socrates, on universals, 403. 

Somnambulism, three species of, 339; -whence the 
name, do. ; natural, do. ; examples of, do. ; ac- 
tivities required in, 340 ; magnetic, do. ; how 
distinguished, do. ; shown to he morbid, do. ; 
representation in excess, do. ; also some sense- 
perceptions, 341 ; acute but limited, 342 ; the 
sense-organs used, do. ; extraordinary intellec- 
tual activities, 344 ; state usually forgotten, 345 ; 
when remembered, 346 ; alternate states, do. ; 
artificial somnambulism, 346 ; hypnotism, 347 ; 
relation to somnambulism, do. ; control of one 
mind by another, 34T, 8 ; higher claims, 348. 

Soul, the.signification of the term, 6 ; original desig- 
nation, do. ; secondary meanings, do. ; rela- 
tions of, to matter, 17-29 ; phenomena of, resolved 
into matter, 17 ; phenomena at first overlooked, 
17 ; arguments for the material structure of, 
19-22 ; for its spiritual essence, 22-26 ; its phe- 
nomena real, 26 ; cannot be judged by material 
analogies, 26, 27 ; described in language of 
physical origin, 27 ; consequent dangers, 28, 29 ; 
relations to life and living beings, 29-40 ; spe- 
cial discussion of, 36-40 ; history of opinions 
concerning, 36 ; arguments of unity of the soul 
•with the principle of life, 36-38 ; objections, 38- 
40 ; faculties of, (see Faculties ;; unity of, higher 
than any other, 46, 7 ; does not exclude complex- 
ness, 48 ; powers of the soul threefold, 49 ; as 
conscious, a microcosm, 99 ; sentient and per- 
cipient, 133 ; state before sense-perception be- 
gins, 180. 

Sounds, sense-perceptions of, 143. 

Space, a condition of imagination, 352 ; void, how first 
known, 538 ; inclosed and inclosing space, do. ; 
these relations analyzed, 539 ; objects as imaged, 
545 ; relation to motion, 558 ; as infinite, 562 ; 
in what sense unlimited, 564 ; cannot be gener- 
alized, 565 ; nor defined, do. ; known by intu- 
ition, 566 ; correlate of the extended, do. ; not a 
substance, 567 ; nor a quality, do. ; nor a rela- 
tion or correlation, do. ; nor a form, 568 ; in 
what sense knowable, do. ; conclusion respect- 
ing, 569. 

Space and Time, chapter on, 537-569 ; objects gener- 
alized, 550 ; their relations individual and gen- 
eral, do. ; relations to motion, 558. 

Species, scholastic doctrine of, 225 ; nature and per- 
manence of, 426. 

Spectra, 260 ; 349, 50. 

Speculative or critical stage of knowledge, 498. 

Spencer, Herbert, an associationalist, 56 ; doctrine of 
consciousness, 89 ; resolves perception into recog- 
nition, 206 ; on the concept, 411 ; on the knowl- 
edge of the Infinite, 656 ; on creation, 659. 

Spinoza's views similar to those of Hegel, 532 ; defi- 
nition of substance, 632. 

Spirit, original meaning of, 6. 

Standards of space and time, 548, 9. 

States of the soul defined, 51. 

Stereoscope, invalid inference from, 156. 

Stewart, Dugald, consciousness of ego, 94 ; theory of 



attention, 207 ; theory of sense-perception, 234 
on dreams, 339 ; explanation of latent modifica- 
tions of consciousness, 289 ; on the nature of the 
concept, 409 ; on geom. axioms, 450 ; on math, 
reasoning, 461 ; on primary and secondary qual- 
ities, 638. 

Studies, natural order of, 74, 5. 

Subject-objects, 62. 

Substance and Attribute, relation of, 195; appre- 
hended later, 197 ; supposes reflex knowledge, 
do. ; denied to sense by Kant, 198 ; supposed in 
the concept, 390; not discerned by sense, do.; 
category of, 533; chapter on, 619-645 ; import of 
the terms, 620 ; etymology of, 620, 1 ; different 
theories of, 621, 2 ; Locke on, 621 ; Hume, Eeid, 
Kant, "Whewell, 621. 

Substance represented by touch-percepts, 198 ; 
distinguished from logical and grammatical 
subject, 620; etymology of, do. ; in the ab- 
stract, 622 ; three classes of, 624 ; spiritual 
substance, do. ; distinguished by attributes of 
causation and design, 625, 6 ; spiritual and hu- 
man defined, 626 ; J. S. Mill's definition, 627 ; 
material defined, do. ; related to space in a two- 
fold way, 627, 8 ; power to affect the senses, 628 ; 
matter not causative of perception, 628, 9; Mill, 
Brown, and Kant on, do. ; permanently occu- 
pies space, 630 ; not self-subsistent, 632 ; Spino- 
za's error and definition, do. ; Whewell's, 633 ; 
belief in permanence founded in design, 633 ; 
relations of material and spiritual, 634. 

Syllogism and Deduction, chapter on, 439-453 ; parts 
of, 444 ; the power of deduction, do. ; possible 
changes in, 445 ; problem of, do. ; does not rest 
on the dictum de omni et nullo, 448 ; not apetilio 
principii, do. ; not identical with induction, do. ; 
explained by relation of reason to consequent, 
449 ; this by causation or its equivalent, 450; 
sanctioned by Aristotle Und Leibnitz, 451 ; ap- 
plied to mathematical and pure deduction, 451, 
2, 3 ; immediate syllogisms, 463, 4. 

Symbolic Knowledge, 426-430 ; can the infinite and 
spiritual be symbolized ? 429, 30. 

Synthesis, involved in knowledge, 67. 

System, 400 ; relations in knowledge, do. ; chapter on, 
494-496 ; any arrangement of content or extent, 
495 ; of both united, do. ; of propositions of 
either, or both, do. ; of less obvious concepts, 
495, 6 ; in science, 496 ; of aostracta, do. ; of cate- 
gories, do. 

Systemization. (See System.) 

Taste, sense-perceptions of, 139-140 ; variety, namea 
of, 139 ; gratifications, objective relations, 140. 

Tennyson, on self-consciousness, 101. 

Terminology, completeness of, no test of truth, 112. 

Themistius, illustration of association, 276. 

Theology, relations to psychology, 14 ; relations t<: 
final cause, 616. 

Theories of nature of concepts and universals, (see 
Concept) ;— of sense perception, chapter on, 221- 
246 ; universal, 221 ; reflex influence mischievous, 
do. ; liable to be erroneous, do. ; pertain chiefly 
to vision, 222 ; of the earlier Greek philosophers; 



INDEX. 



673 



do. ; Diogenes of Ap. do. ; Heraclitus and Em- 
pedocles, do. ; Democritus, 223 ; the Socratic 
school, do. ; Plato, do. ; Aristotle, 224 ; the 
schoolmen, 225 ; Gassendi, 226 ; Descartes, do. ; 
Geulincx, 228 ; Malebranche, 228 ; Arnauld, 229 ; 
Locke, 230 ; Berkeley, 232, 3 ; Hume, 232 ; Reid, 
233 ; Stewart, 234 ; Brown, 235 ; Hamilton, 236 ; 
Condillac, 240 ; Laromiguiere, 241 ; Royer-Col- 
lard, do. ; Maine de Biran, 242 ; Leibnitz, 243 ; 
Tetens, 244 ; Kant, 245 ; Herbart, do. ; Schleier- 
macher, 246 ; Muller, do. 

Thing in itself, explained, 632 ; Kant's doctrine of. 
(See Kant.) 

Thinking. (See Thought.) 

Thomas Aquinas, on universals, 406. 

Thought, and Thought-knowledge, Part III., 377- 
496 ; terms variously applied, 377 ; relation to 
higher knowledge, do. ; dignity of, 378 ; illustra- 
ted by an example, 378, 9 ; thought denned, 380 ; 
products of, do. ; use of term justified, do. ; ap- 
pellations for the power, 381 ; forms of, 383 ; rela- 
tion to lower powers, do. ; when does it begin 1 
384 ; abstract and concrete, do. ; by whom each 
performed, 385 ; difficulty of abstract, do. ; re- 
lation to experience, 386 ;, to language, 386, 7; 
relation to intuition, 402. 

Thought, faculty of, defined, 79 ; its objects, 79, 80 ; 
its conditions, 80 ; how far prepared by thought 
itself, do. ; certain intuitions assumed in, 80, 81 ; 
two aspects of, 81 ; analysis of, involves two gen- 
eral inquiries, 81, 2. 

Time and Space, relations of, chapter on, 527-559 ; 
estimates of, 548 ; objects generalized, 550. (See 
T. & S.) 

Time, a condition of imagination, 352 ; objects as 
imaged, 545 ; measure of, 547 ; estimates of, 548 ; 
relation to motion, 558 ; time-relations general- 
ized and suggested by motion, 559 ; as infinite, 
562 ; in what sens* unlimited, 564 ; cannot be 
generalized, 565 ; nor defined, do. ; is known by 
intuition, 566 ; correlate of the enduring, do. ; 
not a substance, 567 ; nor a quality, do. ; nor a 
relation or correlation, do. ; nor a form, 568 ; in 
what sense knowable, do. ; conclusion respect- 
ing, 569 ; does not explain causation, 578. 

43 



Touch, sense of, 143-152 ; organ, 143 ; conditions ofj 
114; variety of sensations, 145; gentle touch, 
do. ; involving violence, do. ; of temperature, 
146; of pressure, 146 ; muscular, do. ; perception 
proper of, 147 ; of extension, do. ; conditions and 
act, 148 ; of extension direct, not indirect, do. ; 
perception of externality in two senses, 149, 50 ; 
of the body to the soul, 150 ; of one body to an- 
other, 151 ; the leading sense, 151 ; called gen- 
eral sensibility, 152 ; furnishes terms for the 
intellect, do. ; percepts of, combined with those 
of sight, 188,9. 

Trendelenburg, doctrine of motion, 531 ; views of 
the categories, 526. 

Unconditioned (see Infinite), primary and secondary 
sense of, 649. 

Universal, 292 ; theories of, nature of. (See Con- 
cept.) 

Universe, the finite, how conceived, 643. 

Unorganized beings, defined, 29. 

Vibrations of nerves supposed to account for sensa- 
tion, 126. 

Vision. (See Sight.) 

Vital Power, various appellations for, by Elumen- 
bach and others, 30 ; arguments in favor of, 30- 
33 ; counter arguments, 33-36 ; defined by Car- 
penter and others, 33 ; Carpenter's illustration 
against, 33 ; inexplicable by special combina- 
tions of mechanical and chemical forces, 34; by 
organization, 35 ; by creative power, 35 ; admits 
decay, 35 ; is individual, 35-36. 

Weber, E. H., experiments on touch, 144. 

"Whately, on the syllogism, 449. 

Whewell, views of substance, 622 ; erroneous defi« 

nition of, 633. 
"William of Champeaux, doctrine of universals, 406. 
Wolf, on causation, 588. 
"Worcester, Marquis of, discovery of steam, 490. 
"Words, importance for definition, 427 ; no substitute 

for intuition, 428 ; operate by suggestion, do. 

Xenophanes' views similar to those of Hegel, 532. 



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